I cannot stop thinking about my trees

A metaphor? A question.

Dozens of buzzing thoughts sit on my mind’s edge. I wanted to write about why I undressed and redressed (into a long, moss green dress) at 5PM. I’ll make it a poem! I thought.

Poetry sits on the aforementioned edge. Poetry sits in every crevice, actually.

A poetic list about my day and my 5PM wardrobe change and how a day isn’t really over until it’s over! I thought.

However…

I mostly cannot stop thinking about my trees. Yes, my trees. Two trees, to be precise.

The Oak, a protector, stands tall in front of my red brick home. The Pecan, a curvy old thing, shades the backyard.

Today, my beloved Oak and quirky Pecan were treated to a trim and prune. They’d felt heavy for months. Branches, low. Canopies, overfull.

I peered through the window as limbs and leaves fell to the ground.

The sun set this evening, and I sat with my trees. My hardy Oak and treasured Pecan.

Trees don’t need words like I do. The language of trees can only be felt. Happiness was felt tonight.

—

I thought I’d leave you, dear reader, with the questions that linger on my mind. Maybe something here will resonate for you, too. What message can we find? What meaning can this bring?

It was quite an investment to have my trees trimmed and pruned. I am on a tight budget these days…What does this say about my priorities? What did this energetic exchange mean?

Do I need pruning? Trimming?

I feel like I have already been trimming and pruning. Did I need this aspect of my environment to reflect the change that’s happened inside?

What does it feel like to notice the trees? To sense their messages?

Why are trees important to me?

I once read (in this book) about how we witness spirits. The spirits of our pets. The spirits of trees. I’ve witnessed the spirits of these trees (the protective Oak, the quirky Pecan). If these trees are mirrors, what do they say about me?

All my love,
Brooke