Weekly Writing Challenge #148 There you stand, the only one of your kind left, Feet wet, maybe, but your crown dried out - as if your part was to play, the dead tree on the island; a sad note on the emerald lake. Photo: tree trunk on Liepnitzersee Insel, ©2018 Honoré Dupuis
Fractals in the sky, soon Spring will be with us…
The bare branches of a tree, stark against a morning sky. Only had my iPhone with me, which lends some credence to the school of thought that the best camera is the one with you.
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter.
Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom,
but we hope it, we know it.
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
– Hebrews 11:1