Rain trees in winter. Their branches open up like a flower, a bouquet. They flow into the sky. Like water released into the open, suddenly frozen.
Below the earth do their roots mimic the same spread, do they reach out with the same longing, tremulous, quiet?
Looking at these, you feel you've overshot your quota of beauty in life, now everything else is a bonus:
https://picasaweb.google.com/106491954401233999557/LookUp
This is lovely Asha. I feel your warm appreciation and rejoicing in life across the miles of earth, ocean and sky between us...because we who love life are never far away
ReplyDeleteThanks for the great posts.
Asha, I'm just back from a walk in the Irish woodland and I'm struck by the similarities and not the differences in the beauty of the trees in your place and mine. The trees in winter always remind me of lines from the Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde:
ReplyDelete'I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky ...'
Looking Up in Winter allows us to see that 'tent of blue' whilst in all the other months the canopy is that of the wonderful leaves.
Your writing makes me think of the many layers of life - any yes, what of the roots - are they not the bonds that enable us to grow and see the beauty - whatever the colour?