I am a notorious lover of trees.
More thrilled by the winter bone shape of a lone tree in a field than a calico sky at dusk
I believe that trees bear witness.
They are the sentinels of our comings and goings, our births and our losses, our lives and our regrets.
They do not judge.
And they do not ridicule or reprimand.
What they do…is endure.
In the middle of my yard is a white pine that takes my breath away. Branches spreading almost as wide as it’s 80 foot skyward stretch.
This tree is my guardian, and it has born witness to most of my adult life.
I never fail to notice and listen to its song as winds of change blow through it.
Thank you I say for your lessons of being