One of the more serine spectacles I have ever witnessed was an upturned tree on the island coast of Mon, Denmark. Hiking the long way to the island’s famed white cliffs, much like the ones in Dover, we walked across an endless sea of bleach white rocks and fossilized coral. This massive tree, once on the mainland has been evicted from its roots by the creeping ocean tides and now forms a barrier across the rocky beach. The mangled dry roots and the beating waves below them became to me an ironic symmetry of life and death, and a frozen image of the passage of time. Do you ever wonder what a tree or a hill could tell you could it speak? Imagine all the things they have seen, all the rings and sediments of time and age, each with an epic of its own, a struggle to survive, a will to live. Are we so different?
That is pretty cool...it might just inspire me to write a poem! P.S. Your blog looks really cool in my google reader...it keeps the small font and puts it to the right of the picture. I haven't seen that before. Also, wondering what the 897 means on your header. Just curious.
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