Two trees planted on the city walk outside the brick building between a bed of vibrantly colored pansies, orange marigolds, and yellow and pink snapdragons.
I pass them on my walks and watch them change. But over the years I haven’t seen the contrast of these two trees, side by side, where one appears in its Winter wear: lifeless in color, dried pods hanging; the other shedding its Winter coat, beaming with soft pink blossoms peeking out from their pods.
The first time I pass and notice the juxtaposition: Life and death flash before me. Death and birth holding hands in these two trees, and I looking on in awe because something about this image stirs deep down because today these two trees speak to me about life and death; birth and rebirth.
The succeeding times I pass, new growth continues on the Spring tree while the Winter tree is still sleeping, then at last, the Winter tree has begun to show signs of life and it is dormant no more.
crow overlooks the city at dusk
from high tree branches—caw-caw—
joined by a second crow
caw-caw turns a sweet purr.