top of page

Bradford Pear Trees, John Prine, Sunrise and Sunset

The leaves are changing still in East Texas, a few days left before the branches are bare of the magic clinging to them.

Leaves are falling,
Just like embers,
Colors red and gold they set us on fire


John Prine covered the song, his style the thing, cloaking a secret only he knew and at which we could only guess. John Prine gone to COVID-19, the secrets of his heart with him among the dried leaves.

John was 73 when he passed.

I can remember when I thought 73 was old, back when sunrises and sunsets went unnoticed and time was something punched on a timecard marking the start and finish of another shift, a few dollars earned in exchange for the sacrifice of life’s most valuable possession.

Out my window stands a Bradford pear, mature, its leaves slow to turn. I guess it’s old enough to want things to last, not to rush the passing of the moment, but to embrace it all at once in a magnificent burst of life, its face set against the coming hour.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page