The tree

There are magnificent trees in the park where I walk each afternoon. One particular tree (photo) entices me to stare up into its braches almost every time I walk by. I don’t know what made me look up the first time, but it has become a sort of peaceful symbol for me -  and my part of the world. The tree’s arm-like branches make patterns so delightful that I can make out different scenes every time I stare up to see their silhouette against the (nearly always) blue sky.
Lately when I look at ‘my’ tree, it makes me ponder the beauty in the world as it fits (or not fits) into the ugliness of what is happening around us, as far as the horror of war, hate and terrorism.
 
There are many poems and songs written in praise of trees. Trees have inspired words of beauty and love and I can’t help but think that being surrounded by trees, with their beauty and peacefulness, would be an ideal antidote to hate and war.
But what an impossible – and far too simplistic - notion!
 
Often lamenting situations leading to children being denied the wonders of the sea-side and other delights of nature, I also despair of situations that prevent so many people from experiencing any  wonders of the natural world. It must be hard for those for whom Mother Nature and the natural environment are only an impossible dream: an unknown.
 
Lately,television news bulletins are almost too awful to watch, as parts of the world disintegrate with fighting and chaos; with wars that kill and maim: hate one against another.

But I am still able to stroll through a park and gaze into tree tops.
 
I am indeed a fortunate person to have (in the lottery of life) been born in a place of relative peace - and to have the ability to stop and stare into the branches of a beautiful tree whenever I wish.
And I sigh for those who can’t do likewise.