Evergreen

I went unnoticed by man most all my life. It seems he appreciates rarely a thing as it is; he wants to make a thing from a thing, and--although I can't explain it, entirely--I know he overlooked me because I didn't inspire his art. He preferred harder things, shadier things, all manner of other things. I didn't let it get to me.

Instead, I concentrated on putting down roots and growing, on becoming a stronger and fuller version of myself. I didn't travel, but my tiniest pieces took flight upon the very breath of God. I learned the secrets of the sun and the swivel-headed, traveling owl. I became a haven for those smaller and weaker than I.

At last, man came for me. Winter had been harsh, and the others were fallen or, at very least, naked; for the first time in my life, I stood out in my full, green dress. Man gave me the up'n'down. I saw admiration burning in his eyes.

Then he cut me abruptly off from myself and dragged me from everything I'd ever known.

He confined me in a hot place, made a mockery of my natural beauty by draping me with a gaudy scarf and covering me with cheap baubles. He offered me a sad pan of water from which to drink, but I could feel myself starting to die.

I fell apart gradually. He gathered up my bits and tossed them into the fire until, one day, he stripped me of the tacky accessories and kicked me to the curb.

The acknowledgment of man (ax murderer!) stole my life. I lost myself (my ever, along with my green). I became no thing. No thing at all.

***Joining Nacole in writing out "evergreen."