On a soggy August morning, I waded out to meet the tree.
I’ve passed the meadow on the way to my in-laws’ house time and time again. Fenced and surrounded by housing developments on three sides now, the field serves as a reminder of simpler times, and the tree, my mother-in-law tells me, is all that remains of an old farmstead.
On a gently rolled knoll rising up out of an expanse of long, waving grasses, that tree lifts her leafy arms as if holding up the sky. Each time I pass by her I feel the pull. Her unlikely presence gives my spirit pause—rest from the noise of her surroundings, and mine.
So on a steamy August morning as temperatures rose with the sun, I hopped the fence to meet her up close.
will you join me at TweetSpeak for the rest of the story? This is one Artist date long overdue.
I’m a morning person and happiest in a place with no walls. Give me a bed of grass and a blanket-sky and I will dream deep in wonder. But a good story takes me to this place too. And a poem? Even better. You can always find me here. Or connect with me on on facebook, twitter, or pinterest.