gathering days…twenty five.
It is early morning and the light is just coming up over the trees. From inky-dark to old-linen gray, I watch the sky come to life.
From my third floor apartment I look right into the heart of an old tree, which gives the uncanny sense of being in a nest, looking into another nest. Only my nest is still, while the one outside my window is waving wildly with the wind.
It occurs to me that this is often how I keep my heart safe. By retreating to the familiar and carefully protected place of observer…because it is dangerous out there. In that other tree with the wind and the storm one could get pounded, whipped in the face by branches, knocked over by falling things.
…Or one could breathe the air of the wild and free, exult in the chance-taking of heart-giving.
To observe gives one perspective…to dive in, another altogether.