the sky a light silver-gray,
oak leaves orange brown,
maple leaves red,
bald cypress defiantly remaining green.
Crows muttering to one another,
and a tender breeze stirring
what was inanimate
into graceful gestures of surrender and flow.
How could I possibly regret my past
given that it brought me such
a shockingly beautiful
and stunningly simple
What causes the autumn wind
to rush through the forest
stirring the leaves,
breaking their fragile connection
to the spent moments of yesterday,
that they might flutter down to the earth
and experience new life in their death and decay?
It is in their letting go of the past
that they receive the promise of this new moment.
They cannot hold their form in death;
it melts away and feeds new life,
and this is the way of all things.
In the autumn of your life,
can you turn to look
at how you’ve been nourished by the Tree of Life?
Can you gracefully surrender the diversions of youth,
breaking free of your bonds, fluttering down,
allowing your form to be used by the earth,
making way for the promise of what will come?
The season of giving is upon us
And I think about forgiveness.
Is this the gift I’ve been seeking?
Forgiveness means freedom
to be who I am
to grant others the space
to experience their autonomy,
to move in this world naturally
without pretense or planning or airs.
I take a breath and for one moment
I cease running from my fears.
There’s a cold wind blowing
and the last leaves scatter
leaving the tree naked and bare.
Let the season of giving begin,
How about when you finally
take a stand for the truth inside yourself?
When you decide that you’d rather spread joy
than bring pain,
and you’d live as the being you are
rather than the person someone told you
you should be…
how does that feel?
Could you drop the old beliefs
as gracefully as a tree lets go of leaves
and make room for your heart’s desires?
Tree, could you draw your sap
all the way inside to center,
look deeper, and ask for a revelation?
As you stand cold and naked in the darkness,
waiting for the light and warmth
of the rebirth,
What were the seeds you sowed,
and how was your harvest?
Which seeds have you saved
for the plantings in the spring?
And can you turn inwards now fearlessly,
embracing the self that remains
when the old, dry and useless fall away?
Without it I feel as dark and grey
as storm cloud filled skies
and nothing looks quite right–
there’s just not enough light.
The magic of its touch
gives leaves their green
as photophilic chloroplasts
dance and spin
in their leafy home.
The world would be so cold without it
but I will never see its end…
my life is but a grain of sand
in an infinite ocean,
waves pounding the shore
its life span extends
closer to infinity,
at least it does
on the scale of humanity.