Most old trees, the ones that have been around awhile and put down roots, tend to branch out in intricate and complicated ways.
Their limbs curve and reach around each other to continue their outward and upward path.
Their limbs host lichen and bird nests and bugs.
Their limbs sport lush summer leaves and glorious fall colors.
It’s the old trees, the ones that have been around awhile and put down roots, that carry with them the memory of years and the wisdom of changing and recurring seasons.
It’s the old trees who sometimes shout and sometimes whisper to us.
“Find your way.”
“Show hospitality to other forms of life.”
I’ve struggled in recent months to find the time and energy to write. A group of writers proposed writing something every day for the month of October, based on a one word prompt, and writing in just five minutes – no worrying about perfect grammar or always being poignant or well-polished. I’m giving it a go in an effort to jump start my writing. For the one word prompts, I’m going to follow along with The Upper Room’s Sight Psalms. They put out a picture a day and apply one word and a short reflection. If you are reading this, thanks for accompanying me for this experiment in motivation and discipline.