Gnarled Limbs

Bare Tree

Already I have shed the leaves of youth,
stripped by the wind of time down to the truth
of winter branches. Linear and alone
I stand, a lens for lives beyond my own,
a frame through which another's fire may glow,
a harp on which another's passion, blow.

The pattern of my boughs, an open chart
spread on the sky, to others may impart
its leafless mysteries that I once prized,
before bare roots and branches equalized,
tendrils that tap the rain or twigs the sun
are all the same, shadow and substance one.
Now that my vulnerable leaves are cast aside,
there's nothing left to shield, nothing to hide.

Blow through me, Life, pared down at last to bone,
so fragile and so fearless have I grown!

~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

It was approaching dusk when I arrived at this viewpoint over the Columbia River. I thought it might be too dark for a photo. However, I was drawn by the branches of this tree nearly bare and with limbs like long bony fingers.

Did you know that Anne Morrow Lindbergh was also an aviator? Here's an excerpt from Wikipedia, In 1929, "Anne Lindbergh flew solo for the first time, and in 1930, she became the first American woman to earn a first-class glider pilot's license. In the 1930s, both [she and Charles] together explored and charted air routes between continents.[13] The Lindberghs were the first to fly from Africa to South America and explored polar air routes from North America to Asia and Europe."

One of the things I like about Blip is that I unexpectedly learn new things as I research and explore ways to pair my photo with writing.