And the Trees of the ‘Hood Shall Clap Their Hands

This is the tree…

Throughout the year, I forget to be grateful for my home.  Because I’m wretched, that way.  I could be more specific, but I don’t need to rehearse my ingratitude.

So throughout the year, the tree is insulted by the neighbors’ dogs.

Then comes Autumn.

The tree rejoices profoundly.  In reverence and honor and worship, it puts on the most radiant complex colors.   I can’t even describe it and it seems my camera is a bit stumped, as well.

My tree makes the little troubles with the house worth it.  We all agree.

Gratitude is a color.

“You will indeed go out with joy and be peacefully guided; the mountains and the hills will break into singing before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”