The Cirrus in the Trees
Fall begins in October, gently undressing the leafy clothing from trees, exposing the graceful skeletons of trunks, and long muscular limbs and the delicate hair of scrubby branches. Branches reach upward in rare rhythmic swirls and common unrhymthic chaos. They touch a sky that has its own delicate swirls and twists. Fall's light cirrus clouds pass playfully just beyond the outstretched fingertips of pines and sycamores, cottonwoods and oaks. The cirrus take shapes, like watchful angels, like guardians. Fall is magic. Fall is known by the icy crystals of a frozen ballet, by its cirrus clouds. And by the trees that try to touch them.