Out my window, a blue sky, fickle white clouds, and lazy breeze
A canvas back-wash for hundreds of winter-bare slim trees accompanying each other on a knoll, standing sentinel over a delicate, sky-reflective river below
The bare dark tree branches are softening and yielding to spring’s urges, releasing mere specks of green, buds of promise, harbingers of lush delicate new leaves
The lazy breeze has dominion over the trees: tossing, bending, swaying branches in no particular direction or rhythm, gently encouraging release to the winter-frozen trees from their hibernation into the welcome of spring
Some trees in their petticoat stage of dress move more stiffly in this breeze, rudderless in their near nudity
Other trees, more fully dressed, move more gracefully, the newly visible leaves navigating the ocean of sky
How can there be discord among people when always in our view, the example of this interplay of tree and river and sky, relating to each other as dependent partners, shows us the effortless simplicity, harmony and beauty of cooperative existence?
