Shouldn't…but Do

On walkabout, I came around the corner and spied the statuesque trees that line the north side of my property.

The youngest of the three is almost the height of its neighbors, and like my son who planted it from a maple helicopter, lacks only in girth.  The other two, red and yellow maples respectively, resided here before we.

Deep inside each tree I notice autumnal colours near the trunk, yet hidden except for those looking.

They say beauty is only skin deep, and in some instances, perhaps it is true.  But like the brilliance of those just turning leaves, for those that can see?  I think beauty more often starts on the inside.