Deciduous trees start with a delicate beauty And end in vibrant hues again. The tree’s true colors are exposed. There is no holding back, conforming to standards or blending in. To spend the rest of your days in that beautiful authentic expression is something to behold and cherish. Unapologetic without concern of backlash. I celebrate the new blooms. They remind me of a fresh start And the excitement of something new. Fragile like the robin’s nest Sturdy and well made But too low to the ground. Not enough protection to promote healthy offspring. Life is all around us. The birds are learning too. They must feel loss. The robins lost their shelter, their home base. Is it too late to try again? Is nature a cruel teacher? Not so if it prevents future loss of life. We don’t punish the birds. It’s the nature of things. And death too is a part of that cycle Whether we like it or not. And we are a part of nature. It can never be removed No matter how urban and modern our surroundings. The pink blossoms are in their full glory And I am delighted.
The deciduous tree does not appear as it once stood just one month ago. Its outstretched arms are glowing against the backdrop of the deep blue sky. Splotchy green with yellow or browned edges. Yet the mighty maple is just the sum of its many tiny parts. The branch reaches toward the sky on its solid trunk. A resting place for tiny buds that blossomed and burst into a big bold green. Seeds descended and dispersed. And now we get to see the leaves’ true colors. The deciduous tree does not get to choose when it’s time to blossom or seed. It is synched to the rhythm of nature beyond our concept of time. The seasons connect me and ground me in a world that always seems to be spinning faster and faster, Almost off-kilter Off balance. As the cycle of the season begins I’m suddenly reminded of the color, the beauty, the cycles of nature that surround me. Always there. A constant reminder that I, too, am a child of nature and connected to the timeless rhythms that surround me.