If a Tree

I found myself resting under the shade of a towering oak. It was summer and the heat pulled at me like a sponge. I was drawn to its massive profile… time had weathered its foundations, but they held strong against nature. Time is a friend… Mother Nature has her companion. The oak is patient and strong… host to families of squirrels and finches… forever anchored to the earth. Within me, I do not feel the strength to stay…

I found myself lost in the dance of the willow. It was a day of breathy air and the flowing branches moved together like the strings of a symphony. The tender waterfalls of thin branches stream to the tips of the grass and tempt the appetites of wild rabbits. Movements of dance draw the eye as a reflex… grace is its gift. Within me, I do not feel the elegance of dance…

I found myself stealing the details of the dogwood in the late spring. The evening was cool… a relief from the warmer day. The sun filtered a lacy shade at my feet. Its delicate blooms open to reveal an ancient legend… the cross of old and the stains of life and death. Grace and purity… symbols of a love given to the world. A nervous hummingbird perched as delicate as the kiss of a snowflake. Within me, I do not feel its pureness of soul.

I found myself tracing the patterns in the smooth bark of a crape myrtle. Rapid growth is its signature. Pruning is a call for renewal. Shoots of new growth find their way to the air and to the sky. The crape myrtle is a dependable tree, but a messy one. The leaves litter the ground after a flash of handsome beauty. I spied the showy cardinal twitching high within its branches… filling the air with chirping calls. The puzzle patterns of the peeling bark expose the growth from within. If a tree, and within me, I feel its identity…

                                                                   Shannon R Killman