Grandfather lay on his bed; a strong sturdy bed.  But soon it will be stored in the attic or donated to the Salvation Army.

Grandfather was once strong and sturdy like the bed, but now…a week frail casualty of time in the last stage of life whose loved ones have come to…gather ’round: Some like vultures some like doves, some birds are birds of prey when it’s the about-to-die they hover above.

When grandfather was a little boy he found a seed inside a rock that had cracked open.  He planted that seed in a special secret place.  And as he did so he knew with all the wonder and imagination of his fallow youth that one day he would come back to that special place, and there would be growing a beautiful golden tree, a magic tree, with soft downy feathers for leaves, and sparkling crystal fruit hanging low just waiting to be picked; each capable of making a wish come true.

But as time passed the seed was forgotten.  And the tree was pushed further and further behind other, more important things.  Seasons revolved spinning warm summer suns that bathed the place where the seed had been planted,  and sweet spring showers that fed the sapling as it grew.  And the little boy became young man, adult, middle aged, grandfather.

Now, as winter’s snow overlays, he remembers!  And that’s all it takes to be there, in that special place, at the tree.  The old bed squeaks as grandfather reaches out, touches a fruit, and the little boy plucks it.

One of the birds chirp….They all chirp.