“So you brought me another olive branch? Where do you even find an olive tree in Manhattan, Harry?”
“I just find them,” he mumbled. “I know, I know, our nest already has so many of the bloody things. Olive branches are supposed to be a symbol of peace. So how come we always have to fight about them?”
“We’re peace symbols,” Sally said. “I’m pretty sure the olive branch is just a stick. All from that Noah story, olive branches just indicate that land is somewhere close. Like a symbolic ‘Land Ho’ for boys on the big boat doing the flood control refugee number.”
“They make perfectly serviceable nesting material.”
“When you have too many they only make the whole nest smell of olive oil. We need something lighter and fresher. Could you look around for some citrus branches, maybe some nice pine or evergreen, Harry?”
“Where am I going to find citrus in Manhattan?”
Sally pointedly pecked at the latest olive branch, and at Harry.
“Okay, okay, I promise I will look around for something else. It’s harder to find anything good down there these days. Everything is so empty and overgrown.”
“I know. I really miss humans, sometimes.”
200 words. Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt:
ParkInkSpot 