Becoming

I drove by a tree the other day.

Half green, half red. Aflame with colors that had been there all along, only now, autumn revealed the truth.

I slowed down to behold it, as is fitting. Beauty like that woos. It makes me ache with joy.

A tree becoming. Not fully summer, not fully fall. Metamorphosis on display. It could be the maple is confused, maybe even scared. She doesn't know what's going on, she can't predict when the next leaf will shed its mask of green. And I don't know either, exactly. I don't know which leaf will blaze red and which will burn orange. I don't know if the change will happen fast or slow or how many people will behold it, like I did that day.

But I know that tree's destiny:

Glory.