Thirty minutes ago I’d just finished a less-than-stimulating discussion of my cluelessness as regards future interests and was walking to my car when my eyes were drawn to the magnificent, exuberantly towering tree across the street from the lot.
I don’t even know what kind of tree it is. It dominates everything within view- at a guess, it’s at least 60 feet tall. Leaves of ruddy ochre which conquer the vehement yellows and reds of the youngsters at its feet with a gentling touch- not so much muting them as carrying the other colors along with their own up into the arching limbs, etching them against the sky.
I don’t normally like grey days. They make me feel dim as well- dull and smeary and messy. But today is different- a clear, mild, gentle, stippled grey, the sky like a pale, striated baroque pearl.
Against that tranquil, encouraging palette the enormous tree swayed, very slightly, ineffably graceful, in a slow and vivid autumnal pavane.
And I drove away happy.
Diary
Meditationwriting
