Near where I work, in an industrial area of town (though my work is not industrial), there is a field. Well, there are a couple, but for now I'll speak of one. This field was once something of a . . . farm? There were horses, and donkeys, and various other creatures.
Now, as more and more of the land around where I work is developed into warehouses, the farm is no more. There is only a large field of dirt in neat piles, I'm guessing for construction purposes.
In the corner of this field, across a ditch that runs along our parking lot, there is a tree. This poor tree isn't in very great shape. It's gnarled, and broken, and some of the branches no longer bear leaves regardless of the time of year, but it has stood against assaults of all sorts by the look of it. This tree's leaves are green on one side, and silver on the other.
It's very beautiful. Perhaps it is odd to say I love a tree, but I do love this tree. I've known it for nearly 3 years.
But now, the field beside it is a bunch of dirt. All that was once there is now gone. The tree stands alone. And . . . I am afraid for it. It's only a matter of time, I am certain, before it will be torn down and destroyed like everything else has been.
It makes me very sad.
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Contemplatives
This journal will simply be a place where I talk about the various thoughts and ponderings that come into my mind. Well, at least the major ones.
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