The Old Tree

It's a blustery day.

The sun is out. The shadows are long.

The wind pushes the branches around.

The branches sigh.

The tall grass in the field bends to the ground.

The dandelions nod.

The clouds race across the sky.

The sun is behind the clouds.

The shadows disappear.

The old maple outside my studio window stands silently.

It's seen seventy-five years of blustery springs.

Sunny summers.

Warm falls and rainy wet Seattle winters.

It's old limbs are clad in thick Pacific Northwest moss.

When the sun is out, the moss glows with shannon green.

Now . . . a mysterious deep olive drab.

The old maple doesn't care.

Ramses doesn't care. This summer he will lie in the cool grass under the shade of the old tree.

All's right with the world . . .

Day 22 Everyday Grateful ~ Quiet day. Snoring dog.

Bunny hopping off to bunny-work. Thankful.