Here is a meditation on birches.
I passed through a field one autumn morning and met a grove of birches. They stood resplendent in the sunlight, blazing in riotous colors. I couldn’t help but imagine they were dressed for a royal celebration. A breeze swept in. I heard a rustling of leaves, a gentle whispering song. A soft sigh arose in their midst as the birches let fly leaves, wondrous color calliopes, that found their resting place at last on earth to begin yet another leg in the journey of transformation. Letting go initiates a beginning. Birches do it with their own particular panache.