Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky,
Kahlil Gibran
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness.
It’s always a good day when I can get in a nice walk with my camera at one of the local Natural Areas. I do enjoy these cottonwood trees anytime I walk along the east side of Arapaho Bend Natural Area, especially late in the afternoon or at sunset. This time of the year when the sky is clear and the sun is bright the afternoons are the warmest time for a January walk. So I walk, watch and do my best to listen to the wordless poems of the trees. Can you hear them?
2 Comments
Faye White
I’m hearing the rustle of dry, autumn leaves as the wind blows and the leaves finally let go and fall to the ground.
Monte Stevens
I believe we can consider the rustle of dry, autumn leaves as poetry. Have a wonderful day!