The Flipbook Tree

A revised version of Flipbook Trees

She gazed beyond her reflection on the rectangle glass. A dog-eared notebook slept on her lap swaying gently with the rhythmic turning of gears. She let the world behind the glass tell her its story; a flipbook of moments.

The grass tree came into the page, neither a grass nor a tree. Yet. As quick as the wheels turned on the rails, the tree animated before her eyes and grew: now
a gumtree peeling, standing naked for sun’s lusty heat

then
a fern green, unfurling the ways of the worlds

here
freshly fallen, a night storm’s debt collection

there
a eucalyptus rising, a future home

she blinked
it died a stone

ahh!
a grass, it rebirthed

a tree

a grass tree — shorter, sturdier this time.

She left the rails; waving as they continued their journey onwards. The vacant track sat there inviting her to follow its path again. Not now, she whispered to not one.

At the empty space, a blank page, she sits. She waits to see how the grass tree grows this time, or if she’ll turn into one.

A notebook left on a seat,
‘Infinite Moments’.
I slept on, unaware

Thank you to K.E. Kimball, Carolyn Dagenais, Garnet, Jason Stelzner, Patrick Faller, tissie yamamoto for your feedback.