art lays within the core of everything we see. from paintings
on the walls to the weathered face of a loved one. most of all, i see art in nature. from my third floor
window i have a glimpse of this white birch with its bright yellow leaves. all of the surrounding
trees have given into the cold nights. they have shed their finery, standing boldly naked, looking into the harsh
and bitter face of oncoming winter. the white birch, clothed within its brillant yellow robes, seems blissfully
ignorant of what is to come. yet maybe it is not ignorant at all. maybe it knows. maybe it wants to stay
warm as long as possible. i know that i do.
