The Cottonwood


The cottonwood tree in my neighbor’s back yard is preparing to sing. I heard him doing warm ups this morning.

Each year I look forward to autumn and the singing of this tree. His voice is beautiful. He tells stories of water and of preparation and of childhood. He sings to me the love of my father.

I look forward to cooler days, pulling on my favorite tattered sweater, and sitting on my back deck in the morning. I’ll sip my coffee, shut my eyes, and listen to the beautiful solo of one lone cottonwood, crisp leaves, yearning for a lake to sink his roots into.

amanda ∞

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0 thoughts on “The Cottonwood

  1. totaltransformation says:

    All I have in my yard are some weeds that hum dirty Irish limericks. I must be missing out. lol.

    My yard has the same weeds! The eloquent tree is 2 yards down. I’m hoping he sings very loud this fall to drown out the ditty the weeds keep repeating. I think they’re mocking me.
    amanda

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