The bus rumbled along down the street and I stared intently out the window next to me, my eyes wide as I basked in the beautiful colors of the autumn trees outside. Reds, oranges, yellows, all shades mixed in with the evergreens; it was all so breathtaking, even if autumn hadn’t completely taken all of the trees yet. With the mix of colors swirled before me and the painted blue sky splashed overhead, the world looked like (contrary to popular belief) a beautiful place. And as we passed by an area somewhat dense with treelife, something special caught my eye. Something very photoworthy.
Among a forest of tall, green trees that each resembled its neighbor, there stood a little golden tree, wedged among them. The little tree was full and thick with color, seeming to glow against the thick backdrop of green, unchanging pines. I smiled quietly to myself, for a thought had just crossed my mind.
I want to be like that tree, I thought.
And it is true. I do want to be like that golden tree. I want to stand out, beautiful and unique. I don’t want to be a monotonous, green pine, living every day of the year the same color; never changing; always green. I want to be a bright colored tree that changes with the seasons.
Every other tree may tower above me and have more abundance in seed and leaves than I, but that does not have to bring me down. It doesn’t matter that I am less of most everything than everyone else around me, maybe I can still shine through the tedium, even if it is only a little bit.
Just like that little golden tree.
"Autumn in New York" by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong
YOU ARE READING
Speculations of an Artistic Mind: Jane's Thoughts
Non-FictionEveryone has thoughts. These ones are mine.
