The First Apple On The Tree

Trees shake with delight. Whilst the air rustles it feathers. The air can tell it is expecting. Awaiting it's first born. The sun radiates light on it. The birds flock to it. It is coming. 


The tree stretches, it is blooming and showing it's natural beauty. The green grass hails it's almight one. A dog sits below sits there agonizing over it's arrival. He sits there waiting and waiting, with a puzzled expression on it's face. Surely it can't be that that hard? Where is there no sign of growth? No-one knows exactly when, there is a rough time the squirrell says, but not sure whether any soon.


The dog sits there waiting and waiting. He starts moaning and whining. Patience dear one mutters the owl, it will be soon. This dog has had enough and on that note it retreats.


Unfortunately he misses on this natural  out on this natural beauty. From a ting grape it soars into this mansized apple. All bright and rosy like. His owner marches up to it, admires it and picks it. Returns to the kitchen where the dogs lies. Then his owner eats it. Poor Hamilton.  




The End

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