Talking to the trees

Today I walked through St. Boniface Cemetery because the trees were turning and it is a bright fall. I was in a fine mood, as I’d had a very successful meeting with my advisor who told me I could graduate in 1 ½ years. And we spoke of travel for the summer and I saw my future like a crystal ball.

I looked up into the trees in the park and heard the Dr. Zhivago music in my soul.

I bless these moments of divine presence in the city.

At least the poetry of the trees is a constant in this funny season. I so wish it would be a real excuse for not doing homework or inexplicably not going to work.

“Where were you?  Why didn’t you call?”

“Don’t you know? I was talking to the trees.”

What did I do this month?  I re-kindled my romance with cafes and the post office.  I danced around a few landmines of love confessions.  I tried not to listen to too much Jewel.

I may be sentimental to my detriment, but it sure does make for a fine afternoon now and then.