Ode to the Tree
Despite that it is now days after the summer solstice, a strong arctic system channels a steady icy breeze over the latitudes, further cooled by large bodies of water in its path. I blinked and missed summer. Faint memories of sticky hot afternoons and paddling pools are being overwhelmed with the present need for sweaters and slippers during the day and a thick blanket for night.
And I think this tree is dying. The tree that so patiently has kept watch over me these past few weeks. The one which lures me to sleep each night with the lullaby of wind in its branches. The one so gallant, so steady, so enduring.
It has survived years of sun and rain and wind and snow. Countless birds and dogs and cats and small children have left their mark. It is caught somewhere between spring and autumn.
A mixture of pale spring green and hints of autumn reds and oranges. A kaleidoscope erupts as sunlight and shadows dance through the gentle swaying of branches. Then all is muted once again as rainclouds slowly drown out the last rays of sunlight on this tree, not yet in its prime.
