I wonder how our rivers will record this volatile year. What stories will they tell in the sediment they leave behind?
Does the 2020 moon wax in sympathy, or wane in dismay?
Will the stressed roots of this year’s trees grow deeper, will their acorns offer hope?
Do the tides of 2020 hurry out and then hesitate a moment or two in the tranquility of that deep ocean, before trudging back to us?
As we look to a universal sky, will we up our game under the keen assessment of all those stars?
Are we rising to the challenge of our one true life?
I ask because it’s been a rough year.
And a tree trunk’s rings never lie.