the Grace in Abandon

There are trees that wait in natural silence along the old-bridge that leads to the subway. With withered arms outstretched over sleepy pedestrians, they stand frozen in time. I find comfort in their shade as I walk wearily past them. There is something to be learned from the steadfast posture of these riverbank trees.

Even with mottled bark, they never tire underneath the sun's glare or the wind's heavings. Their only revolt is a stray leaf gently broken off their branches, a part of itself separated in homage and humility. Cushioned by warm gusts, with flickers of stray sunlight caught on morning dew, this offering is accepted and rejoins the earth with blessings.

There is a nobility to withering, and abandonment is a bittersweet exercise that I'd like to learn for myself, as well as the forbearance to endure those troubled times that lay ever ahead.

But what is left to be endured when everyday there is joy and laughter to be had everywhere. Nearby, the grass sways in tune with the silence left by the birds and the chilling melancholy of Autumn, but are evergreen. I suppose for those who are planted firmly in the earth, life is a gift that's never exhausted.

And I've found that land that nourishes the soul so keenly and fills my heart with aching mirth and wonder. I'll gently lay my roots down and find a sturdy foothold here. I'll surrender to the Seasons, yearn for the Spring that comes, and walk underneath vibrant foliage pregnant with new blossoms.