What a wonderful world (HLD 168)

6 Sept 2020

I see trees of green

Old trees, young trees, trees bent over with constant pummelling of the wind, trees with massive trunks that have withstood a lot of years. Trees with white trunks that stand out against the reddish soil. Trees planted with purpose, and trees sown by chance.

Red roses too

And everlastings – heaps of them, yellow and pink. White flowers, pink flowers, lots of yellow, purple flowers – everywhere. Here for a time and then gone.

I see them bloom, for me and you,

I also see paddocks of canola – sunny yellow as far as the eye can see, almost ready for harvest.

And paddocks of half grown wheat, dark green at the base with a hint of light brown at the tips.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue, clouds of white.

For a day or so, and then sometimes there’s clouds of light grey (not bad), dark grey (hope you’ve got a raincoat), and black (forget the raincoat, head indoors). But the days of brilliant blue sky, with mild temperatures, are the days when the world seems to be smiling with you.

The bright blessed days, the dark sacred night.

The vast dark skies away from the city, where so many stars are visible. The Milky Way, the Southern Cross, the saucepan and shooting stars.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky.

We all love a rainbow – but have you noticed that the very best rainbows are the ones showing up against a black cloudy sky? Just like sunsets that are at their most magnificent when clouds are present – you need bad times to show you how beautiful the good truly is.

And also on the faces of people passing by.

Watching people armed with phones, cameras, and iPads, bending over to take photos of tiny flowers. Other people taking photos of people taking photos of tiny flowers. 

I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do

(They’re really saying, I love you)

Way back in the dim distant past, when I was young, you always waved at other cars as you passed them on the road (you also pressed your fist into the windscreen after waving, in case a bit of gravel kicked up and smashed your windscreen!). If we saw a car stopped beside the road, my dad would always slow down to make sure they were ok or if they needed help. The road waving is having a bit of a resurgence nowadays – acknowledging a sharing of the road, and of passing a fellow human who is also on a journey.

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow (They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know)

Maybe the babies will be crying when their grandparents show them hundreds of photos of flowers. They will get a giggle at the picture of Grampy’s butt as he’s bending over to take pictures through.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

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