Sometime in autumn…

I’m outside for reasons other than enjoying nature, my mind dripping with copious thoughts of numerous and diverse things, hurrying along, when suddenly, IT surrounds me like a cloak.

You might say . . . IT arrests me.

I stop. Look around. Listen.

IT—the Silence of the Trees—imprisons my spirit. For that brief interlude of time, I feel . . . rather than think, becoming an instant soul traveler to a place where deadlines and distractions and worries don’t matter.

A magical hush emanates from the foliage…

. . . descending upon me as I close my eyes.

The trees fold me into their branches to share their silent shouts of victory while they magically transform their careless, summer-gypsy branches into beautifully solemn sentinels of winter.

I hear their blood – their sap – seeping into their cores – standing guard against the approaching cold. The lonesome wail of the outer layers sacrificing their wet wood, letting it dry and harden and pretend to die, fills me with wonder.

Leaves wither and laugh on their way to the ground.

All that. I feel. When the Silence of the Trees halts me. On an autumn day.

Have you ever felt the Silence of the Trees? Do seasonal changes make you wax eloquently, feel inspired, or get excited? Maybe all of the above?  I value your thoughts.




“Look, kid, I know it’s my fault. Careless media borrowing gets me every time!”

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