The Tree of Life

The air is cooler now in the waning days of summer

I pull the chambray shirt around me as sun changes to shade along the trail

The leaves of the trees are still green

The birds calling out in the bright morning sun

But the underbrush, once lush, is now faded

Dusty, waiting, leaves already falling

The scent of transition

The trail follows a riverbed of scattered rocks

Then back into the trees

Crossing a slough I step into the water

Cold and cloudy, no longer clear and flowing

It is waiting, too

Dew covered grass keeps my legs wet as I climb the opposite bank

A hawk takes wing, suddenly

The dog giving useless joyful chase

Now the river is close

The raucous sound of geese gets louder

The trail breaks into the open

The river sparkling, flowing, rumbling over rocks

Geese cover an exposed area of rocks in the center of the river

Incessant in their conversation, one lone great white egret sits in their midst, silent hunched

The dog swims and I wade, the sun warmer now

I soak my chambray shirt in the cold water and put it on, dripping

It is my insurance against the heat as we start back

Again playing cat and mouse with the sun and shade

Entering the last, the longest, bit of woods along the trail

We pause at a volunteer tree, a fruit tree of happenstance, revered on other continents

Non-native, out of place, it's broad deep green scalloped leaves flowing out of deeper shade

Seeking sun, the branches of the fig tree reach out heavy with fruit turning purple

I reach up and eat its sweet offering 

In the treetops over my left shoulder the last moon of summer gives her assent as I plunder

The tree of life