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.