I am driving down the street when I really notice the trees on our street. They are stripped bare, no beauty dressing them. Yet, they stand upright, regal, branches toward the sky like arms reaching out.
The stark gray day and the bite in the air have not beaten them down. It looks to me as if they are waiting - eagerly waiting for something.
Maybe the iron that keeps them upright, that runs through their roots like blood and courses through the bark up, up, up into their branches is the sure and certain knowledge that spring is coming.
Could it be that they know this dark and frozen winter will not last forever - that warmth will once again kiss their limbs, bring fine delicate greenery with which they can adorn themselves?
What is it that makes them stand so tall, so straight?
Could it be - hope?
I wish there was a like button. This post was for me today. :)
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