My Sister the Tree

SAN FRANCISCO--Let me describe my little sister, the flowering fruit tree: she seems steady, grounded, not haughty or tall, with a young delicateness about her. She is just beginning to show her blossoms, no longer buds, but not nearly fruit. She has a wisdom about her--an age shown by the lichens on her bark--but she is pure and cleansed by many rains. She loves her solitary world, yet welcomes twittering flocks of tiny birds into her branches, who help free her from parasites that would lodge in her. She stands deeply rooted and her head doesn't reach the clouds, but her twigs and leaves, like fine hair, give her a delicate, elegant halo-like crown, the sign of a dreamer. I love this little tree, this strong sister. She has not yet learned how to dance, but she knows the grace of stillness.