Signs of life and the dead speak in Silence

Last night after a particularly weird and jarring dream, I awoke with the intent to go for a walk in my neighborhood.
In my dream, I had done just that.
I woke up, put on my clothes and coat, and shoes and walked out the door.
It is overcast, as usual. But the sun was working hard to shine though the gray veil. The air smelled like rain. And in fact, it was dropping in tiny drops. Uninhibited by the rain, I walked down the driveway, and onto the street. Up the hill, down the hill, around the windy road.
I was looking for signs of life.
They were every where.
The gentle buds on flowering trees. The pink blossoms on the tree in my neighbor's yard, which seemed to bloom overnight.
The happy daffodils. The shy hyacinths. The wind whispering on my face, cold and invigorating.
My legs moved and my feet anchored into the earth with every step. I found myself wondering if I was a tree, what kind of tree would I be.
Something with silvery colored leaves. Like a eucalyptus tree.
Half-way up the walk, I stopped to visit the Jewish Cemetery on my street. I love cemeteries. They are a really peaceful place for me. I don't actually get much interaction with the spirit world, when I am there. I might get some wispy spirits. But I made sure to have my shields up when I stepped foot onto that hollow ground. I find it's easier for me to get my bearings there. The dead mostly speak with their silence. I like wandering around the tombstones, and taking notice of the husbands and wives birthdays.I ponder their connections as I decipher their zodiac signs. What were there lives like together? Occasionally they talk back. I chuckle. Even in the afterlife, there is a sense of humor.
Walking up my driveway, I checked the time. I had been gone almost exactly an hour.
I felt refreshed and grounded. Ready to take on my day.
I just needed to be outside.