So I sit here in my 67th year watching the seasons pass and growing wiser each day. Hey, I am the author and I can write what I want - there. Thhhpppp Today is golden and over the years I have grown familiar with the stalwart sentinels of mine and my neighbors yards. Today in majesty stands a silver maple who for half a century has stood in old Bobs yard. Except old Bob and his mother have passed. And the maple isnt silver today its a golden yellow. More aptly an explosive golden still jealously guarding the leaves from falling perhaps a vanity of the last days of fall? Our trees of the same genre remain green and as in past years will be the last of their kind to shed their leaves. Homage to my wife who so loves their shade. The famous Oak of hardy wood and heroic comparisons is less than majestic. It remains the first to brown yet the last to drop its leaves. A failing that makes the last fall clean up an arduous task. The cottonwoods of the small forest that line the drainage? Like all soft wooded trees that take on lots of water they stand bare already. Impatient for the snows of winter - telling us lets get this over? Perhaps? The sun? Merely a rumor of a sun this morning. Its in its usual place but seems to be a sliver glow of uneven margins as the gray clouds of fall frame it for the Maker of all. Today I will make my way among the people of my world and wonder which of the sentinels or orbs you may be and while I do even though some may not be the majestic golden I will look for your strength. You can still learn at 67.
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 13:07:19 +0000
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