Pin oaks are odd. They keep some leaves til spring. The leaves are ugly, more like tree clutter than adornment. Limp lifeless dull rusty. Nevertheless, on a February day, when the sky’s gray, and everything around you feels dreary and quiet, the wind picks up a bit, and there’s a soft rustle up above. High above.
It’s something like a hiss.
Like frozen crystals brushing by in an icy snow, tick, tick, tick, tick.
Or maybe the scraping a towhee makes when it’s tossing sticks and leaves under brush on a summer’s hunt.
A little softer than the crunch of fancy tissue we bunch around a gift for someone’s birthday.
Yeah, the pin oaks shiver. And then they whisper to the wind.
photograph from january 18, 2020
And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach
Of crazy sorrow
Bob Dylan, Mr. Tambourine Man
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They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
Please visit my other blog, Clover and Ivy, https://cloverandivy.wordpress.com.
I post mostly nature photos there.