I sit and am blessed to watch the trees dance with the breeze.  Blossoms on the branches bounce and wave, bushes now full with red leaves sway back and forth.  Oh to be green and allow the seasons unravel me. 

My sluggish human form forgets how I am that.  My aching joints are merely a sign of thick old limbs on a tenured tree.  Wrinkle on my face show the same scars as do torn branches and twisted trunk from many waltzes with the wind.

Every ache and flesh change in my body is a sign that I have been gifted to be on this precious planet for years and years.  I shift in my vision to see the Presence in the presents I have received.