Startled by the stillness of the
tree I stopped and stared. It was akin to being in a vortex and I wondered at
the new agers and the ways and traditions of the old practitioners…were there
vortexes, an ancient power-stone- something? Tree and tree and tree. Many, yes.
Some solitary and refined, some wild and unencumbered, - bits of disease, bits
of broken bark and decayed leaves. All small problems, because the main magisterial
quality abounded still. I moved, but looked back, and even sometimes went back.
Leaves. The sky through the leaves. At other times the sky obscured rightly by the
foliage. It looks black in the dusk and light brown in the day. Wise through
time, having attained to something timeless. The humidity and the rains are no
comparison for watering cans and indoor light. Look. Look at the tree. The foot
goes gently as possible upon the path, and I keep looking back. It’s decorated
in itself somehow, - a spirit. Is that is what it is saying or is it a projection?
The tree. Startled and happy, smiling, I walked on.
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