Waking Eyes ...

NIGHT

The sun descending in the west,

The evening star does shine;

The birds are silent in their nest,

And I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower,

In heaven's high bower,

With silent delight

Sits and smiles on the night.

William Blake

Many times I have been blessed while viewing the setting sun.  Whether from the island of St. Thomas or a lounge chair on the back deck, the view of the descending sun can become an awestruck moment.

Darkness paints the sky as the sun slips down into the horizon, and a star begins to twinkle in the sky.  The moon seemingly faded strikes a contrast with the blackened sky.  

As all falls quiet, instead of feeling like the ending, a sense of beginning surrounds me.  Another day has ended, but there is promise of experiences all brand new, just waiting for my waking eyes.

Easily Tipped

"The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way.  Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity, and some scarce see Nature at all.  But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is Imagination itself."              

-  William Blake, 1799, The Letters    

There are many things that I admire about nature, but trees are at the top of my list.  They have deep grounding roots, contort limbs into gnarly positions simply to accommodate the art of reaching for the sun, and manipulate incredibly slow movement taking years to balance. 

I desire to stand strong like a tall oak tree or to have the grace of a weeping willow swaying in a gentle breeze.  I aspire to be a Cherry Tree to be valued for the grain in my some day future as artisian wood.  I wish to feel the joy of sprouting little buds that unfold into changing fall colors reflected by the sun.  I long to experience being silently present as a stranger sits at my base sharing both happiness and sorrow.  

Instead, I am more like a palm tree with shallow roots, easily tipped by strong rain and threatening wind.  My fronds are plain and seldom do those on foot take the time to see the value I hold within.  Although easily associated with a certain time and place, palms all look the same.  There is comfort, however, in knowing that it was the palm that honored Jesus the Christ as he arrived on a donkey into small throngs of followers.  I can live with that association and glory.  It is enough for me to be me, a more simple tree.