When that cold wind blows, I stand still and I stand strong, as I gaze upon my trees and those of my neighbors. Speaking any words only leads to loss of needed heat to endure the season. So, silence becomes my trusted confidant. Vigilant, my eyes remain on the branches, praying that we lose not another between now and Spring.
My ears tune intently to the mourning of a neighbor, whose house was jolted by the falling of a major limb. Suddenly, I hear a crack above my head. As if in slow motion, I watch as one of mine falls. I tremble as I fight back the tears that will only become ice if I allow them freedom. The wailing in my chest presses toward my vocals. Then, that cold wind blows again, seeming to zero in on my right cheek. My eyes close, and I'm reminded of the cold noses of my babies when they were babies, mashing into my cheek as they delivered the sweetest sugar a father can know.
My eyes open to see several saplings surrounding the bases of the older trees. From the same roots they are born; they grow and are made strong. In this transition of focus, I'm advised of the roots, the Source of the life found in both, the young and old. We may lose limbs or maybe even and entire trunk, but recognizing, tending, and nurturing the roots will always bring forth life. The family will never die. Our roots run deep and will Forever inhabit the Earth.
We are and abide by Spirit.
Those who have ears, let them hear.......
Bryan Hollomon Williams