I live near a living tree... a limber pine... that grows on a ridge in the foothills of the Rockies. It entered its sapling youth centuries before Columbus landed on the continent he had the hubris to claim for his branch of the species. Lying on my back under the great spreading branches, the wind stirring the summer boughs, the greens scintillating from yellow to blue & back... turquoise, emerald, avocado.... the sun dazzling & daubing in penetrating strokes I know absolutely the earth belongs to the trees. Under their quiet majesty I feel in my core the creation is perfect & cannot be perfected. From root to sprig. Eyes closed. I am at peace.
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