The temperature feels like spring. The Bluejay mimics the ultimate predator- the Hawk. Squirrels bustle nearby, bringing motion. The Sycamore knocks from deep within each time the wind blows, beating alongside my heart. Nature rejoices on a warm day, hibernation taking a backseat. Instead, I am the one slowing down. There is a white fungus with a blue pupil staring at me from a rotting branch. “I see you,” it seems to say. The honeysuckle berries lay on the forest floor. “We aren’t going anywhere either,” they whisper in solidarity. The heavens open up and I know that I am the only human in the area. Solitude, an easy sigh. Robins flutter closer and closer, their wings hugging the air, hugging my soul. The breeze off the river is cooler now, Decembers promise. A pair of pileated woodpeckers swoop above my head, bringing with them the hope of stability and strength. These moments are happening while also ending. Aware of each breath, I am immersed in the now. With the trees. With the birds. With the rivers quiet meditation. This old Sycamore beats to the rhythm of nature’s drum, as do I. -JL
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