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A woman intertwined with a tree reflects on autumn’s fleeting beauty. The season’s colors are beacons, drawing tourists to glimpse nature’s purest palette. As days shorten, photosynthesis slows, green retreats & golden yellows & fiery oranges take center stage.
Her delicate, faerie-like features blend with bark textures, subtly connecting her to the cherished leaves. She is the Mother-Tree, source of life in the grove for generations. With outstretched limbs, she cradles her leaves - some clinging tightly to her, their intricate patterns echoing her DNA, while others release themselves, carried by the wind in a bittersweet fluid dance to unknown destinations. She watches intently, her gaze a mix of reverence & sorrow, as the untethered leaves drift away, symbolizing the cycle of life. Each year, she surrenders parts of her essence, offering them willingly to the winds - the act of letting go as much an act of love as it is of loss.
Visitors admire the brilliant hues but miss the stories they tell. She knows the colors speak of sacrifice. Throughout their brief lives, the leaves are caregivers of the highest order, transforming sunlight into life-sustaining energy for the tree. Even in death, they continue to serve, enriching the soil wherever the currents deliver them. She releases them, scattering them so that new life may flourish. Yet, even after nearly 200 years, the magnitude of loss remains the same.
She is surrounded by a shifting fog, its dynamic wafts forging constant pathways in motion—a reminder that nature’s infinite flow exists because of countless finite moments. She whispers, “Thank you,” into the breeze, hoping her gratitude will travel the same winds that bear her leaves.
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