The Tree Nymph

The spring began few days ago. The snow that had frozen the trees was now only a shadow and their sap was now boiling. Some merry streams were flowing murmuring through the humid grass. The smaller branches were coming back to life, cracking shyly.
The raw light warmed up my face. I opened my eyes, feeling the rustle the life inside my thin, slight body, still frozen. I was receiving the warmth and I was dressing with it.
I moved away from the heart of my tree and I released my long hair that had covered us both since now. I stretched and arched my body, yawning, awaken from the winter sleep. Languid due to the warmth and with my eyes half closed because of the light too white, I went out and looked up at my beech.
The winter hadn`t changed it too much. The little branch with five leaves has broken under the weight of the snow. I had heard its death cry during a frozen night and I couldn`t stop myself thinking that, in time, it would happen to the rest of the tree too.
The little nest was still there. It was still full of snow, but I was sure that the birds would come back and live there.
I was glad that everything was fine. I sighed satisfiedly and I went back inside my tree. My legs dag in with the roots of the beech, seeking with the bottom of the toes the water, giver of life. My arms laced between the branches, my palms stretched for the spring sun. I pressed myself against the heart of the tree, giving it my warmth.
Another life was beginning.

I was cruely and suddenly awaken from my dream of light and happines by the sound of an axe.
Hitting us.

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