I am completely mesmerized by this tree.
I pass it each day on the way home from work, and it's long been my intention to photograph it and share it with my readers.
There's something so tragically grand about it~arms lifted Heavenward, spindly, thirsty fingers twisted and reaching downward for sustenance. Mind you, this is not the result of our recent drought, it has been dead or dying for many years now.
I ponder, what does it say about me that I am more drawn to this image than the one below?
By trade, I am a Respiratory Therapist in a hospital setting; it has been my lifelong vocation to offer comfort and healing to the sick and dying....is it perhaps for this reason that I feel empathy, daresay even a kinship with this tenacious survivor?
It brings to mind the venerable words of poet Alfred Joyce Kilmer...
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.