21 by Iman Haddad

Hybiscus

Drawing by Morgan Tracy ’22

The street, lined with tall, twinkling branches of pines, filling up the open air with arms reaching towards the stars and roots sinking into the cool earth.

If you were to walk by without taking a glance you may not notice the white buds that dust the outstretched arms in the springtime. Or the way the air is filled with green pollen and humidity. It’s the kind of air that sticks in your lungs when you step outside into the morning - the trees that lined the street are being reborn.

You may not notice the songbirds that fill the air in the summertime when their nests are filled with young chicks nestled within the emerald leaves that crowd the sky. Summertime storms never seem to disappoint, the rain sizzling on contact with the heat of the concrete. The air smells like summer when it rains; the trees are filled with life.

If you were to walk by, you may not notice the way the trees look when the air turns cool and the sun rises late. Or the way that your steps sound while walking on the pavement, how every movement is filled with a crunch of leaves beneath your feet. The way that yellows, reds, and oranges fill up the atmosphere. In a glance they’re gone, and it’s like they never even existed. The trees are moving on.

If you were to walk by, you may not notice how lonely the trees look without their leaves, how the atmosphere turns white in an instant and the air tickles your nose when you breathe or how we bring the trees inside for December. Oh, how I love to watch the seasons change, their shifts and turns over the year. Their uniqueness and vibrancy fill up our lives all in their own way.