Tree Terpsichore

With the fog on the water behind them, two tall, lithe junipers face each other; fancy fronded arms raised to catch every liquid light crystal.

Like two neighborhood friends having their morning confab, they sway in the misty wind seeming to agree and disagree on the politics and palaver of the day.

One can almost hear their gossipy grinnings as they bend to and fro, “No! Did he really say that? It can’t be true.”

“Yes, I have it on reliable sources.  I heard it from the crows.”

“Are you sure?  The pinnacle of the pine next door said different.”

“Would I lie to you?  I swear it on my cousin’s cousin who originally heard it from the hedge around the corner.”

And so it goes.  Back and forth, they lean into and away from one another like old chums dancing to familiar tune with comfortable steps born of daily routine.  The Autumn gold and crimson creating frilly chorus line around them.

Old master timber holds the sanity of  reason, experience and patience of ages on the corners of the houses tucked into blocks; delineated by lines of sidewalk pavement and bisecting thoroughfares.

The city below this hill obscures with velvety, grey fog as banks of chubby charcoal clouds come rolling like comforting coverlets.

And this pair of pals wave their limbs in long windedness like watching a coffee klatch conversation or a children’s game of telephone; their piney palms up to their mouths as they whisper secrets only the hovering hummingbirds can hear.

“Chitter chat,”  those hardy little red, green and grey magpies of the feathered friend set yammer on into the cold wet of fall air.

What are they still doing here?  Their gladiola nectar gone for the season and the crab apple tree buffet they love so much is nearly bare  with only  a few rust colored freddy-the-leaf fallings each day.  Adornment and nourishment are now the beads of rainfall.

The day is so people quiet.

Quiet enough to hear the real and imagined conversations of nature.

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