The Same Path
This morning. Walking the same path. By the lake. In the sun. The landscape has changed. Yesterday's storm and high winds took big trees out of the ground. By their roots. Right across the path. It made for a lot of climbing. Our camper neighbors moved away. A white birch smashed through their tent yesterday. And landed right on top of their stuff. They weren't there. They left a sign on their pole that said, "A tree killed our tent."
I'm tucked into a big oversize green chair in the corner of the library among the mysteries. It's a funky place. It feels more like a bookstore. Bob Dylan on the wall side by side with old botanical prints. I can hear the librarians and locals talking about trees falling on electric lines and how long they haven't had power.