The forms of sleep

A walk in the winter woods brings on meditation.  The sights are less enlivening, and small things loom larger in the experience.


In the woods, the forms of the trees—often wind-mangled and mutilated—are easier to see, and the quiet eye settles on bark, dead limbs, and fungus instead of on the showy wildflower or playful birds.

Effulgent grasses (Credit: Celia Her City)

The forms of life, rather than life itself, are plain to see.  The fluffy heads of the dry grasses glimmer in the setting sun.

An acorn and a tree (Credit: Celia Her City)

The furrowed bark harbors a tiny acorn.

Tension of the burr (Credit: Celia Her City)

A burr oak’s bark radiates tension even in its sleep.


Elsewhere, downed limbs shed the disguise of life, revealing new beauty.

Union (Credit: Celia Her City)

They speak to us of the unity of all things.

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