Seasons of Hope
I spotted these trees on a walk two years ago and have never forgotten them. The way the living tree flames out behind the dead ones. The promise of new life hidden in each glowing leaf.
As leaves fall it is easy to be melancholy, but I remind myself that until they do, the new ones cannot grow.
What this tells me is that each end is also a beginning. That there is no season without hope.
As leaves fall it is easy to be melancholy, but I remind myself that until they do, the new ones cannot grow.
What this tells me is that each end is also a beginning. That there is no season without hope.
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