My Burning Bush

A tree.

Of all things, that's what has pressed upon me the “need” to write.

It sits directly across the street from where I live and resides a few feet back from a used and beaten sidewalk. Behind and around it is a large cluster of other trees staggered down a steep hill of black dirt. The foliage becomes so thick and interwoven, a person might think they were in a forest not a subdivision. There is even a small stream gurgling over rocks, which homes the squabbling raccoons  I hear screeching to each other at night.

But resting on the very top edge of this condensed wilderness, one tree has caught my eye.
If it does the same as last year (and I hope it does), a few weeks from now, something rather odd will happen. The leaves on it will start changing colors. While this might seem normal and part of an annual process...only half of the leaves change at a time. It is as though this tree was not one, but two. Right down the middle, the southern side acknowledges and accepts the coming of Fall while the northern half clings to Summer a little longer. This process continues through all seasons. It will lose leaves one half before the other, but will also bud the same way. Even to the top, steeple-like branch, one side fades first.
This tree amazes me.
It also breaks my heart...and I am still trying to completely figure out why.
I think some of it has to do with the idea, that I am the only person on Earth who is paying attention to it. I am probably the only who has ever noticed this. No...I am sure of it. This tree, while near other trees, is a lonely thing and some event caused it to be different. Was it a lightning strike that came just a little too close? Did it catch some illness as a sapling? Is something wrong with its roots? Is this simply a genetic variation the tree can't help? Are there insects eating away at it from the inside and no one can tell?

When it looks to the Sun, what does it feel?
I empathize with this tree. Why? Because for most of any season, it looks rather mundane, typical. People do not stop and take notice. They do not wonder why or care about this thing which is so common in the world. It's a tree. They simply pass on. The story of this tree, its life and trials, are of no concern.

...Just keep walking...
Even the birds, who use this tree for nesting, will never know vital details about its life. I will never know. Its story has long been lost.

Such a simple thing...the life of a tree.
I am so glad I moved to this place, if for no other reason, than because of this tree. I have taken pictures of its cycling through the seasons. It is an incredible spectacle.

One day, I will move from here. It might be ten years from now. It may be sooner. Whenever it is...this Tree, I will remember it the rest of my life.