NoTears, just Bubbles

The forest has no tears this morning. On other days the leaves and grasses were full of dew from the night. Today all tears about forbidden and impossible dreams had been blown away by a crisp clear breeze.  The air was cold and fresh. The sun is rising up in a clear sky over the Boland Mountains.

Winter changes the appearance of the forest and it looks so different. I crossed the stream on a different spot than usual. A rock pool has been formed, big enough to take a bath. But I did not bring a towel.

I rested for a while, watching the water flow. Little bubbles are formed between the rocks and floating like little spaceships on the surface. After a little time they burst into hundreds of little drops; each has it’s own time. Some are only there for seconds; some make it to the next rock. Each little dome reflecting the beauty and the sun until the droplets join the stream again.

As I reach the contour path I look down on the city. I can see the M5 busy with morning traffic. The morning sun is bright and each car reflects the light like a little silvery bubble floating on a stream of water. Each bubble containing a soul floating past for the tiny fraction of a nano-second of the endless time the mountain and the forest is watching this stream. We are only here for such a tiny short time and we think it is so important. I thank the forest for reminding me.