Out the back door, to the left of the deck, under the shade of towering 90 year old Norway Pines, my tree is singing. If you are still, you can hear it. It sings a song that is ageless, a song of rebirth and hope. It sings only for a short time as it’s small flowers open and it’s red leaves unfurl, reaching to the warming sun. At first, it might sound alien, the humming of a thousand small voices lifted into thanksgiving. If you are still, and watchful, you can see them, the singers, drunk on the nectar, dancing and weaving between the leaves until either rain or night falls.
Today, I stood between the rain showers, closed my eyes and listened, trying to absorb the message.
1 Comment
May 14, 2009 at 10:32 am
I am enchanted. The colours in that tree look like cloth that came from fairyland itself. So lovely.