This prayer came from the bronze-leaved trees of the hills a day before shedding the rest of their leaves. It is a prayer offered to all trees.  Before the great white covering of the land arrives:

Thank you for teaching, in your living, of vulnerability and

Stripping ourselves bare for all to see

In anticipation of great change

And hopes of, as of yet, unimaginable regrowth.

Once more transforming the air, water, sun and earth to form.

I am touched by the trees' vulnerability, pride and honesty standing in their shapes.  Those of us who live in the north invariably have a moment in the year when we realize that we love this time of year when one can see the shapes of the trees outlined in the sky.  Thinking about the losing of the leaves, the color, the music they make, the companionship and the covering seems much harder than the reality of it.  Once they have gracefully, joyfully, shall I add gleefully, fallen, it is a gift to see the naked tree in its raw authenticity.

Now, is a pause, a moment between, a moment for which I am grateful.  We rest, we sense, we listen and hear, knowing that change on many levels is upon us.  It is the pause before speaking, the pause before action, the pause before knowing, the pause before transformation.  Soon the winter months of the northern country will call for a different voyage.

I wish you all a moment to notice and enjoy this pause.