Under the Willow Tree
James sat down in the early spring morning under the whopping Willow Tree, its pale, green leaves virgins to the cool, misty air. A light fog, similar to one seen on the way to school or work on a warm, late November day rolled over the hills where James’ eyes were fixed. The calming peace left him with nothing but silence rumbling in his mind. James was a man of many moods, although most often he was happy, it was very easy for him to become quite agitated with the least bit of provoking. But, as he did every day, he sat in peace under the willow tree to view the rolling hills for one last time before the calamity of the upcoming day began.
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