THE SIDEWALK: MY JOURNEY AROUND THE BLOCK

Project 2  •  No. 11

Rooted

Trees reach towards cold sky, 
standing tall and true.

Can humans reach towards cold truth, 
standing tall and vulnerable?

I stepped out my back door into a magical sunrise. It allowed me to see the true silhouette of a favorite tree.
It's misshapen form reaching with an odd combination of desperation and wisdom.

Even in death, a tree speaks beauty, truth, and love.

A youngin needed a helping hand.

I wanted to write a caption for this, but got stumped.
(Sorry. I just love bad puns)

This red bag caught in the tree reminded me of a heart in a rib cage.

And yet another heart.

The tattooed tree.

Cement or tree bark — you decide.