A month now passed, Den had grown. Sadly, leaves had yet to sprout from its gallant branches.

Spending time alone, Den often thought its bare display was a fault of its own. 

Is there something wrong with me, thought Den on more than one occasion. 

Den had gone an entire Spring and Summer without so much as a single leaf grown. If the Sun had such magnificent plans for Den, then why was it still naked? 

Is there something wrong with me? 

Then, on a lonely December night - or was it November? Who’s to say - Den heard the flutter of the softest wings, a noise most breathtaking, without even being seen. 

“Hello? I’ve been flying all my life, and I’d like a place to rest my weary wings. Is that alright?”

A voice sweet like honey, with a body so small and eloquent. Beautiful feathers the shade of orange kissed by curves so delicate. 

Sweet bird, my branches are yours to make home in, thought Den. What is your name?

“My friends named me ______, but you may call me Ehme.”

—-

And so was the meeting of Den and Ehme, of it and she. 

With each passing day, leaves began to take form, making Den’s existence feel all the more warm. 

Den suspected Ehme’s presence to be the catalyst for its change - the bringer of life into an otherwise barren tree.

Days turned to nights, nights led to weeks, months, years. Ehme had made a home in Den, among its colorful leaves, now healthy. 

Each night, before falling asleep, Ehme would snuggle into one of Den’s many nooks, and proclaim, “I’m happy.”

Den would wrap its branches around Ehme, and gently whisper, I’m glad.  

—-

And so it was, a match made in Fall(ing) asleep with Ehme made Den the happiest of all.