An old tree appears contorted and tired. It sags under the weight of years of observation of time and events. Its smooth silver bark still reflects light even on a dull day and it continues to hold an attraction.
A lithe woman connected with its old arms, which supported her as she suspended herself. Her young figure curved to echo the old, as one, though she had witnessed so little in comparison. Her body stretched, her spine felt good and her shoulders strong.
As the wind blew, the tree creaked and the leaves rustled. Almost imperceptibly she started to move with the wind, gently swinging back and forth in the breeze. She was a brief beauty that would soon fall to the earth but in the meantime she was as magical as the tree itself, two very different lives as one.