The golden leaves fall one by one as they silently pirouette to earth. They cover the narrow path I walk on with harvest colors that cannot be painted with human hands. They loudly crunch beneath me feet. It’s a welcome sound. The wind does not rustle thru the leaves as it did in summer’s prevailing breeze.
The tree’s have released their brilliant crown to cover the earth. The floor insulates itself with a fresh blanket of fallen leaves. The snow will be coming soon, it falls lightly and silently as the leaves did shortly before. Crystalline colors replace the warm glow of leaves. The snowflakes merge together to knit an endless blanket without beginning, or end.
The colors are brief in full display. They are the fireworks of the fall. The grand finally comes and goes. I drink in and marvel the simplicity of a tree’s cycle of brilliant clothing. The bare tree reminds me that it will be covered again, in good time. Perfect time with perfect design. The 100 ft Cottonwoods serve as river sentinels as the meandering Yellowstone River streams past, never stopping to salute, yet always aware of the tree roots it feeds as it makes its destination eastward.
The Eagle searches the river for food as it perch’s high in the Cottonwood.
The tree serves its purpose as the river does. The Eagle completes the triad of beauty. The tree, the river, and the bird. Intelligently designed beyond human understanding and comprehension. The tree knows, the river knows, the bird knows, I know, but only partially.