Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I don't dream much that I remember,
    or don't remember much of dreams.
    Mostly let them come and go like clouds.

    I woke with a dream of my sister telling a story;
    a tree being moved, great ball of roots exposed, her voice in the background
    “A tree makes an island,
    an island makes a tree.”

    Just a short and passing observation.

    I woke wondering about where the tree was going, who would dig it up and all the earth clinging to its roots.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.