The golden bough that would have been there anyway

Walking along the old railroad path behind our village, stewing about this and that…

I note that the sun, just about to set, has come out from behind a cloud, and I think, that is a nice way to be accompanied back home.

And suddenly I stop, grabbed by something exquisite. A branch that has fallen off a tree and caught on a bush lies facing the trail, the blunt, broken end facing west. The inner flesh of the tree is pure gold, radiant in this burst of setting sunlight.

I think: this would have been here, this broken branch blazing out into the world, even if I had not been here to witness it. And how amazing that I was.

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