Monday Musings

The day is overcast and the leaves fleeing. They can only stay so long before they scatter, the leaves. Set ablaze by cold and fire, the cloak inevitably molts.

The wind sounds different now, the air growing quieter as it no longer hums through the tree. The beautiful dying changes everything.

It always does. 

Empty and bare sits the tree and begs us to remember her dress, the shade under which we sat, the beautiful grandeur with which she rustled in the day.  She cries for us to remember the locusts and the caterpillar and how she housed them all. The birds that nested and sang and the life that they bore. 

She is brave and bold and, naked before the world, she stares us down and says beautiful dying is worth the sacrifice. 

And when she brings forth life again and the wind plays longer in her bough, she will want us to remember her barrenness.  The days she spent bearing no fruit have prepared her for this. The lush bursting with life, the sanctuary for all who need rest. She will be bigger and stronger and more lovely than ever before.

You see, the beautiful dying will have changed everything. 

It always does.