It is good to return
Without the filters
And masks
To breathe and just be grateful
For all that was
Is
And ever will be
To not carry things under my skin
Where they dig in
Like burrs
Sharp stones
To not mourn what is gone
But instead see all that remains unchanged
Interminable through the passage of time
Some trees have fallen
Yet some
Will always stand
As long as I return
And that will only be another few years
While I walk on this earth
That Beefwood by the fence will see me again
It watched me as a child
But I never saw it grow
It’s always been huge, dark, brooding
A sentry to life passing by its buckled trunk
We are all just drifting through
But some things seem to always
Remain
True
Beautiful and so reflective! Great photo too 😉
Thanks Colin. Pretty time of day, so good to go home and see it all again.
You are most welcome 🙂
Oh, the stories your Beefwood tree could tell you, if it could!
I often think that with trees! The tennis parties, the advent of the first mechanical cars roaring through the gates, the horses trotting past and before that, just the quietness of the bush, no house or shed or humans. It is that old I think, though couldn’t be sure.