Longfellow’s Tale

The seasons of life may be many or few, and what you choose to do with yours will determine your view. And so it was for a young squirrel born in the early spring. He grew up in a majestic oak tree and his name was Longfellow. Early on in his first season of life, he often gazed at his reflection in a pond. Though his blessings were many and came from above, still his eyes paid their homage to the image he loved.

For under the hollow of his home was an obtrusive branch that hovered beyond where it should reach. It obscured the pond with a view of itself. In the midst of its shadow, Longfellow saw the reflection he thought was his own. And though his time for enlightenment increased, yet his glow dimmed. “It is so obvious,” he observed in his shallow mirror, “MY bushy tail is a plume of grandeur!” His resplendent tail made him magnificent, or so he thought anyway.

In his daydreams, Longfellow often fancied himself to be a little better than anyone else. He came to view the branch as his way to ascend and happily complied with its demand for more attention. His time of growing came but it was his pride that flourished like a pillar opaque. He was soon to learn something about treasure though --a valuable lesson about choices. What you do with your time matters, not only for yourself, but for those around you too.

Now even a regal squirrel needs a friend and Longfellow was no exception. His best friend was a sparrow named Siri. She was quite vivacious as sparrows tend to be, and possessed just the right amount of patience to offset and even diminish Longfellow’s acquired personality.

This young squirrel needed someone to love him enough to construct him anew. For lo –a view of vanity will fade when a cloud full of rain shows the depth of this stain. And so it was on a late summer night, when truth came a calling to the shadow of his tree.

An early fall gale arrived with a forceful thunderstorm of mighty will. It came in the night and seized hold of the tree. Roaring winds were accompanied by demanding thunder. A cascade of lightning exposed the infirmity and awoke him from his slumber. The eminence assaulted the growth which was vain, and its gasp was ignored by the cloud full of rain. Longfellow trembled, his secret was known, a tail wrapped so loosely, its cover was blown.

Longfellow could not block out the one that wanted so much more. This storm did not hold him in high esteem for being a squirrel with a capricious tail. No, not the least little bit. Its purpose was to clear the iniquity away and not until it had vanquished its fury did it relent from its rage.

When the execution was over, the unsettled squirrel tossed in his troubled sleep. He had a dream that his bushy tail was soaked and bedraggled as he searched in vain for his shelter. The gale was not his only problem for neither was there comfort to be found in the hollow of his heart. Thankfully for him, this was a storm that wanted to change more than the world outside his front door. It was replete with good council that extended within as Longfellow was soon to discover.

“Longfellow, wake up!” chirped the always alert Siri at his front door the next morning, “Hurry, come here quickly and see what happens to a limb that is idle!”

Longfellow responded by burying his head beneath the brown leaves of his bed, trying to escape the loud exhortation from his fine feathered friend. But her words were sharpened to show him what’s left –to the one who has swayed on a branch found bereft.

“Longfellow, where are you?” she persisted. ”It is time for you to wake up! Come at once and heed my call!”

Longfellow grumbled back at her because he felt like he slept on a mattress of nutshells. He did not like to be seen without his allotted grooming time and his unruly appearance matched his agitated mood. He replied to her, “All right already, I’m coming! And stop yelling at me for crying out loud!”

Siri paid no attention to Longfellow’s snubbing and continued her call since tree-shattering events had occurred. Her voice made clear that fate was near and those who slumber unaware are like sheep with no shepherd. She was a sparrow after all and was not known for having a quiet demeanor when events needed noticing.

This was always so since she first found him early in his life when he was a pup and lost his mother to a wily cat that invaded the neighborhood for a time. Left alone, he wandered from his lonely home and there she was to fill his need. They grew to be friends, both playing and quarreling in the oak tree --forging a friendship that had withstood his disagreements. He survived on provision stored in the hollow by his mother, and Siri also gave him of her sustenance to live. There was another in the tree that gave him instruction as well.

Now that Longfellow was a young adult, his personality was maturing like the leaves on a tree. For now, each one was green in the summer sun. But seasons will change and the landscape does blush –for some become red, more show up orange, and still others are yellow. Sadly for many though, the color revealed is a dismal brown after the cover of summer is stripped away. For these ones, the fall arrives and acknowledges their dim. Siri wanted to help him change what he held on the inside before that time arrived. Certainly, her dull, brown feathers weren’t indicative of the colorful bird he always heard and knew was there. Conversely, it was because she loved him that his gray tail might not sum up all that he was for his time in the sun. Yet!

Longfellow poked his head out of the doorway to see what all the commotion was about. He gritted his teeth and glared at Siri. Unfazed, she extended her right wing outward to show what remained. He climbed out and stopped short, gazing upon the gruesome sight she was pointing to. Nothing but emptiness was there! This was what awaited him where his beloved branch once reigned.