#378: A Tree Viewed Upside Down
Finding unexpected peace
On a walk
Searching for a refuge
I found a tree
I sat myself down
On a jumper on damp grass, a few crisp leaves
— autumn beginning to make an appearance.
Sitting, I looked.
My chin ninety degrees to the floor, I stared straight out at a hill
(What I call my mountain)
In the distance
It towers over rooftops
Which sit below a blemish-free sky of blue — white at the edges
I breathe.
I breathe in greener air
A distant view
The blue of distance
An imagined moment: standing on that hill over there, looking out.
Eventually, I rearrange my jumper —
I want to lie down.
As I do,
As I tilt my chin 180 degrees from the floor, I am surprised
By leaves
Above me is a branch
Extending from the tree behind
And arching above my head, my eyes.
I am entranced.
I lie there, shading my eyes from the sun, to watch the leaves,
To see them play in the breeze, rustling each other.
I watch and listen as wind moves leaves and sound.
I feel held in that rustle.
Between me and the blue expanse is a tree
It reaches out
And I
Reach up
With my eyes upon the leaves
A world turned upside down
In a peaceful moment.
