As I touch the cool broken street cement of a city, and how the tree is like the breath of nature itself, as it exudes a blanket of cool in the humid air of spring not yet summer.
It is an old bonsai tree, after living half a millennium in Japan, displaced to new shores of America. It is foreign, and in “making America Great again”, it is the root cause of contention, of xenophobic banter and termed “an invasive species”.
Yet it is this poor tree, immune to fungi, immune to the natural causes that affect trees within our borders that brings beauty and safety to a land not its own.
This tree, is like us. It is a community, of smaller things. A node in a network of life within the grander scheme of life. It is the story, of how sadness is rendered beautiful.