A Spark, A Thought

Along the banks of the Colorado River east of Austin, Cedar Elm trees stretch skyward, competing for gaps in the canopy. An old veteran, the tree that gave up timbre for this instrument collapsed from the gusts preceding a Texas thunderstorm.  In 10 minutes it was all over: the winds died down, clouds parted, and a towering Cedar Elm fell silently to the forest floor.  The bark began to rot, replenishing the loam beneath; the eternal cycle of accumulation and disintegration as observed by Herman Hesse: “A tree says: a kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.”