La Musique

Monday, November 26, 2007

Trees

They grow, they reach, they yearn to touch the very sky. Basking beneath the warm golden glow of the sun, the light rays are forced to part themselves into little strips that gleam as they caress the ground.

Trees. Not one of them grow the same way. In spring, the flowers bloom and burst like no tomorrow. In summer, they soak, and in autumn, they blush prettily. But in winter, they shrivel up, die, and fall off dramatically to pile up in a small heap beneath the tree. And what is left are the branches, bare and exposed. But ironically, it is now that I can better appreciate the shape of the tree. How every branch and twig grows into the crisp cold air, how they twist and turn, spiralling as they will in any and every direction.

Enough of the gushing, the pictures, they will tell. Just as soon as I return to Singapore to the comfort of my bedroom and computer.

11:24 AM