Nicole Page-Smith
Leaves scatter on by
While trees lose their leaves all winter sitting in contemplation of Spiring and sit there barren with new shoots in mind, evergreens waiver in the breeze. Daphne, oh Daphne, my maid. Sunning herself in Autumn Sun, Daphne thought of the birds. Twittering the birds joyfully sheltered in Daphne, the tree. Daphne thought of Spring and new flowers. The water nymph thought of her watery countenance and the freshwater falling down with the rain, pleased her. Clouds welled up in the sky and the birds were of exuberance of the rain. Twittering so happily, they were, you would wonder why the forest birds liked dirt baths on the forest floor, too. In all resplendent joy of the rain and streaming sunshine the clouds began to cry, gods were almost laughing with joy for the experience, themselves and Daphne felt blessed to be amongst trees in the forest. The birds flew away to spread the news and other trees smiled in the rain. God cries with joy when trees are happy but sometimes the clouds cry when it rains. The light shone that day on Daphne.
In flight in the wind sometimes trees think of past lives as trees, a wooded bliss. Soft bark enveloped her face, the face of Mother Nature. Wind caresses the upper branches of trees and birds almost fly backwards trying to land on them. Walking through the forest you see feathers on the ground, the odd one or two blowing in the wind, dropped by little feathered friends and amongst the tree tops you hear the chatter, alerting you of any dangers, ahead.
Flight and birds, trees and gods are amongst us always, walking. Flight sometimes wanders through your mind as an idea. Birds fly through the forest and as though you are on wing your ideas fly off with the birds. Sky and clouds make it hard for you to walk on windy days. Weather dependent your ideas become clouds and drift with passing rain. Walking, walking and wondering you enter another universe. The sky is night and the trees are darkened amongst a darkened sky lit night of stars. You wonder what universe trees may come from and are somehow transported with the moon. Clouds light the sky and drift covering the stars and the moon. The trees gently blow in the breeze and you could imagine them thinking of stars, God and their origins with Mother Nature. Born under a planet is a tree sort of thing and you feel the trees thinking about stars racing with comets and shooting stars. You could imagine century old trees having comets passed overhead a couple of times in their lifetime. Stars racing and falling and back to the Seasons with Autumn leaves blowing, you leave the forest and it is daylight, again. A leaf crumbles underfoot and a pigeon flies out of the woods. Stars are lighting your mind and trees are as though they were never there on the surface of the moon, a watery knowing materialises and your thoughts follow a leaf down the stream and water, ripples, by.
Leaves drift on by and blow in the wind. Blowing, blowing in the wind the leaves continue to blow along your pathway. Swirling in the wind, leaves blow on by. Winds howl in from the sea on windy days over mountains and down rivers and you feel like a willow in the wind blowing as though your hair blows like the willow. You wander along roots scudding along the ground, sprouting out of your shoes. Your toes hang out of sandals and your toenails have grown with the roots becoming harder to walk, your shoe leather starts to crack and bend. Wondering if you stay too long in one spot the vines may start enveloping you from the floor, your fingers gnarl up with roots and leaves, cold with the wind, you continue to walk along and realise winter is fast approaching. The woods seem distant and in a museum trees bash against the window and you realise you are in a cafe eating soup and bread with perfumed herbs. Postcards of trees settle your mind once again your mind drifts with falling leaves. Your mind wanders to underwater coral, branches of the sea and you are reminded of images of Christ with red beads and branches of coral. Wearing red you are reminded of branches of the heart and a lock of hair falls down your shoulder. Leaves scatter on by.
