Illustration Friday - Hollow

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And then one day the little birds flew away from the tree, and he knew from the way they were flying that they would not be back.
That night, he asked the old owl about it. The owl was quiet for a few moments.
That is the way of birds.
Did I do something wrong?
No.
I stood still even during the fiercest winds. I protected them from pounding rain that stripped leaves off my boughs. I kept the tremor of thunderclaps from interrupting their sleep.
You were a good home, indeed. The owl nodded reassuringly.
The tree thought about that and then sighed heavily, branches sagging.
I feel so...empty.
You are hollow.
Yes, that is true. But this is a different feeling than that.
I know.
The tree sulked a little and the owl saw something skittering in the moonlight and soared into the sky.
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