Once upon a time in a land far far away, a small clearing sat lazily underneath a village of lush trees. The trees swayed and gossiped, fluttered and observed, grateful that it was the rich brown depths of Central Park that their roots could reach down into. As the seasons changed from summer to fall, the trees linked arms so that their leaves could fall down-down-down in a uniform golden rain onto the warm meadow below.
Then one day, a family came to play. Blond, bright-eyed and boisterous, the brothers reached up-up-up towards what few golden greenies remained on the trees, then making leaf angels in the dry leaves as if to reassure them that although fallen, the wise brown leaves were not forgotten.
GOAL! The older boy kicked a soccer ball quite expertly across the lawn, and danced a jig at his success.
THUNK! A wrestling match has broken out on the grass and the trees cheer from above as the boys collapse into fits of giggles in the soft bed of their leaves.
"THANK YOU!" the boys shout. It's time to go home and the family waves their goodbyes. With a rustle of branches from above, the trees respond their adieu.
For now, all is peaceful again. "Come back," murmur the trees in unison, "Come back anytime!"