Nothing unusual happened today as I looked out
across the forest and watched the leaves dance about
in the wind. They ride the breeze along the ravine
like the friends that move in a never-ending stream
through your life. The leaves blow in from one
direction and bathe together in the light of the sun
along the river bank. When a storm comes, it sends
some of the lighter ones along and around the bend
while the rain gives those with more substance an
even greater reason to stay. The river rises and
drowns most of the stones. But, it has, in the course
of time, already left a broken path towards the shore.
The old trees standing around me, hardened by such
storms as have come before, seem oddly untouched
by another. They have taken some of the worst that
Nature can give and their branches rustling laugh
with contempt. They know that they are firmly
planted and help to shelter the little ones like me.
I try to write another chapter of my book while
holding down the pages against the wind. But, I'll
not succeed. As much as I might want otherwise, I
must surrender and let the pages turn. While time
brings more leaves through. Some old and gray,
some brought down before their time. Some may
hang longer still way up high in the tops of the trees
but soon, whether naturally or because of disease,
all must at some time confront the same fate.
Nothing new in that. Just an average day.