The branches spreading above me stand out against the vivid blue of the sky, spider-webbing it with dark, jagged lines. The leaves above me rustle dryly. It's autumn, and all the trees in the valley are undergoing their gradual change from green to fiery gold. The sun shines through the leaves, tinting the air gold and heating the ground below. The thick carpet of dry leaves beneath me crackles and releases the sharp, earthy scent of fall as I shift from my seat against the trunk. I lay down on the warm ground and listen to the soft voice of the wind as it stirs through the branches. For a few moments, here, in Gaia's shining temple, I can let myself breathe. I can pretend that I am out of reach of the insipid city lights and the constant squabble of human life. I can trade the roar of the highway for the rush of the wind. For the first time in far too long, I feel fully free, staring up at the melded copper leaves above me. Watching the branches sway in the wind, I sink into quiet thought, and I let the deep calm of the forest wash blissfully through me.
I love the perspective of this piece--the looking up from below, the observation of a change of seasons, the calm escape from "the constant squabble of human life."
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