Job

It was a lovely summer day with a light breeze and the trees sighed, eager and cautious at the same time. Some would be hugged in happiness, others in remembrance; a few would offer active listening to ranting, and still others would endure bark picking, leaf stripping, or even carving. The people never seemed to notice that some trees (the very young and the very old) had been moved to protect them ... a unique and secret tree-walking process that had to be timed perfectly to go unnoticed. The huggers, mourners, ranters, and pickers were all welcome, because a job was a job, and they knew better than the bi-peds the glorious point of it all. They decompressed when the parks had closed, the romantic fumbles had concluded, and the campers had retired to their tents - checking in from root to root, and having a laugh or a moment to rant themselves. This is what it was like to be alive and in the thick of things, toiling on the surface while reaching up to the sky