It stirred something within. And I know how trite that sounds.
But the sheer act of decanting things, thoughts, weights and stepping out into quiet, breeze, subtle smells of season…
… and there it stood. This tree, laying out across the trail, reaching.
It’s a tree. I get it. Alive but moving in increments imperceptible. Patient. Unwavering.
I saw its sprawl, there before me.
And I almost heard it whisper. I wondered what it had to say to me there in my decanted state, moving along, preparing to reburden myself subsequently.
So I just simply halted. I listened.