I watch the trees / as seasons cycle.
With wistful eyes I watch the trees as seasons cycle from spring to summer to fall. Winter’s slow death is a passageway to a recurring awakening every spring.
How different we are from trees! With one chance to live youth’s brief spring and then, the joys and sorrows of the middle years, to sail into that oblivion of no return as if it were from a short dream.
We seek God as if the vast oceans and the starry skies, the soft cooing of the mourning dove, and the soothing fold of nurturing love are not enough.
Excerpted with permission from Between Two Worlds, ©2011 by Aytaç Aydoğan Edwards (Xlibris, 2011).
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