the wisdom of the trees

I went for a long walk today in the fresh spring air and warm in-and-out sunshine. I wish I felt as exuberant this spring as I feel I ought to feel... as I want to feel. Instead I feel unsettled and restless... I sat with an old ent for a while in the tulip garden, hoping to absorb some groundedness. I wondered just how old the dear fellow was. How many years had he been there- how many years of weathering and growth had carved such deep lines in his bark? I must have seemed like a pipsqueak to him. Well, its kind of nice to be thought of as a pipsqueak, because sometimes I feel I'm getting old and I fear life is passing me by. And I am afraid of my inaction. And also my action. And somewhere between inaction and action is paralysis. And stagnation. And I   do    not     want    that...   So.    I will  p u l l  one foot up out of the soil of Baltimore... shake it off, wiggle my toes around- feeling the air between them, and... step... gingerly... forward...