The trees in our neighborhood are enormous. A magnolia in the yard behind us stands at least 40′ tall and the black oak? (like I know trees) next door is at least 30 feet. We have no trees in our backyard but they are shaded by the neighbors trees.
On this quiet morning inside, I catch sight of the wind ruffling through a tree a couple of houses down. First, the leaves do a slow dance and then the tempo of the wind picks up swirling them to the twist or the jerk (60’s anyone?) or any dance that moves every part of their green shapes. How do they even stay on the tree!
Then all is still.
I wasn’t allowed to go to dances when I was growing up. An archaic notion of our church that has since changed. But I grew up with music and it’s rhythm. I know the movements as a piece goes from andante to allegro, when the volume builds to a crescendo. I am moved by particularly rhythmic pieces. The building of the timpani drums celebrated with a cymbal crash at the end or a singer who sings with his or her whole being. Clearly, that’s why I’m drawn to Bono of U2. He doesn’t have the best voice but all of him sings.
You might think I’m more emotive in church but often I sit quiet watching as I do the leaves. Sometimes the music of the church moves me to the point all I can do is still myself outwardly because the feeling is so deep inside. Maybe I should have been allowed to dance.