THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS TREE By Margaret Tanner
Tiny was the smallest pine tree in the forest. The other trees stood straight-trunked and tall, like soldiers on parade, while he grew stunted and slightly crooked. “They won’t even bother cutting you down, Tiny,” the majestic pine on his left sneered. “They’ll make fine furniture from me,” another said with lofty supremacy. “You’ll probably be chopped up for firewood.” “Don’t listen to them,” whispered the white dove who rested on Tiny’s highest branch. “Everything on this earth has been placed here for a reason. You just have to await your destiny.” The timber workers moved in the next day with their heavy earth moving equipment. The ground vibrated under the wheels of the yellow monsters as they gouged an access path through the forest. Whining chainsaws woke the slumbering mountainside, sending frenzied birds into flight. 68
