G Bebs / Photographs

From my place down here, the big trees meet the sky in curved and zigzagged lines that mark their reach. A breeze, and the treetops trace themselves in the sky’s light, the light pouring through between leaves and branches. Some days, when the wind is feisty and the clouds puffed up, the place where trees meet sky is wild with color and light, the elements jamming big time. Such pure abandon! I look up like a tourist.

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