The Tree Outside My Window

The leaves on the tree outside my window are starting to turn this really beautiful red color. Whenever I sit at my desk in my office (which is so rare, I'm lame) I always think how gorgeous that tree is. Makes me feel less like I like in some sort of concrete mad-land. I realize I'm home sick. I'm excited to be going home next month.

My moods have calmed. The tide is out and I'm walking along the shore of my mind kicking at broken glass and stabbing the dead jelly fish with shells. This is how it feels after a storm, after the chemicals whirl and tear and roar. I tiptoe along the sand trying not to cut my feet or get stung. Into a plastic bag all of the trash goes. Then into the trash. I stare out at sea and hope that the boats further out, past my eye, past the horizon, have fared well. Sometimes I worry that they don't get the advance notice from the weather bureau out there but then I try to remember that it sometimes in the midst of the storm, in the slap of the sudden grey waters, is when you're the most aware. Just perhaps not the most prepared with the lack of dry land, steadier footing, inland breezes free of salt and rage.