I gaze at the window at a single tree in a crowd whose leaves alone shimmy and turn with a gust of wind. Her jazz hands make me smile, especially when I notice she’s the only one dancing. She’s caught a wind current the other trees somehow miss.
I saw this as a child. I remember standing there, wondering why only one tree shook in the wind.
I learned that unseen processes govern the day. Something strange and wonderful seemed to animate the world, and like Wordsworth, I had to chase it down.
Secondly, I recall that two years ago, I wrote about the very same observation. I wrote that certain trees seem to position themselves to dance.
After all this time, I go back to the same beautiful lessons in nature. They cycle through, year after year. I’m not finding new things; I’m rediscovering the same old truths. There’s a warm comfort in this.
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