Like the leaves on the trees, shifting from brilliant green, lush and full, to copper, gold, amber, scarlet, dropping from above to carpet the landscape in rich jewel-tones. Some things change. Beautiful while it lasts, but once it falls, it’s the death-knell of a season. You know that the changes are coming, some good, some bad. Both inevitable, to a certain extent. Your view of your surroundings shifts as well, and you are allowed larger glimpses of the sky above, with the overhead foliage drifting slowly down around you.
Some things change.
Some do not.
The tree, although slowly being shed of its emerald cap, still stands. Stripped of its protective covering, it lifts its bare branches to the sky in defiance of the climate surrounding it, enduring through the cold, harsh winter. Strong, with roots sunk deep in the soil beneath, drawing its nourishment from every available source to continue, to persevere, to bend with the wind, but not to break. Waiting for the next spring, when the sun returns, and it warms the earth beneath the tree’s base once again, sending a new flood of life soaring through to the very sky overhead.
Some things will never change.
But happily, some things do.