Trees, I simply love trees, and in the local park wandering amongst the fresh fallen leaves still wet from the rain, I wonder what it feels like to be a huge and ancient tree. 
The bark weathered and worn, the roots deep in the soil, the Knowing of so much, just by having been there. Holding the space of that existence and on going it is remarkable. I feel like they are sentinels of wakeful support which we can choose to connect with at any time. Grounded, real, true and aged, why is it that we simply pass them by unacknowledged for all that they have seen and held.
Sitting by the duck pond, feathery yellow russet leaves on a maple tinged with red shelter my gaze as I watch the ducks squack and swim, seeing them dive into the water in their awkward legged moves is precious to behold. Someone tosses some bread to them, as my husband kindly states in answer to my question, yes the sign says do not feed the ducks, but according to the ducks it is fine and welcome.
Misty haze in the back garden, bathing the mountains in tranquility and peace, somehow cushions the morning in a welcoming embrace of quietude.
Nature is such a resource, the sound of water, the crunch of twigs underfoot, the scurry of a squirrel along a branch, cheeks stuffed full of treasure nuts and sustenance for the winter.
I love the deer, as they gather and gaze without guile piercingly direct, humble in their vulnerability and curiosity. Spindly legged young ones scamper and play, bold to an extent yet still looking for direction from the Mama.
Lace tattered leaves of such delicacy, how do they hold to the branch? Multitude of colors held within one leaf, intricate patterns and design just there, waiting to be viewed, dissolving as we see it, temporary delights to the senses and to the rhythm of a cosmic dance unseen yet heard in the minute movements of change. Imperceptible yet real and true.