At the end of each exhausting day, I make the last stretch of my journey home on the public bus. It jerks to a halt at each stop and passengers shout their thanks to the driver as they step into the evening. There is one great hill that is lined by a small forested area. It's not till we reach this part of our journey that I can truly bring my mind home. Its lush half acre is home to a small marsh surrounded by a thicket of massive pines. In their autumn brilliance, they stand tall and bare. I am stunned by the contrast they cast against the aging marsh grasses. How can something so stark and barren make one feel so much at home? I suppose they teach me to find comfort in this seasonal change.
through empty branches