Do the leaves hold on to the tree’s branches
or is it the tree’s own doing
when it comes to ultimately letting go?
The leaves have completed their cycle.
They were the first buds and sign of spring
Opening into colorful blossoms.
The blossoms became the green or dark hues
Expressing the type of deciduous tree.
All shapes and shades of green expanding toward the sky.
Next there were the seeds.
The future generation of trees were expelled down.
Pinwheels of seeds helicoptered below
The descent to bring forth descendants.
Now that the seeds had done their work,
The tree could finally show its true colors.
The green transformed to bright oranges, reds and yellows.
My oldest calls them the color of the setting sun.
The strong autumn breezes help the trees
Shed their leaves.
And then they are bare,
Ready to brace the cold of winter.
No fragile blossoms to accidentally freeze.
Just the tree and its roots
Starkly standing in the white of snow.
The cycle can’t be rushed or passed through
Because it is nature’s own timing
And the tree plays its part.
The deciduous tree reminds me
That all stages are important.
One is not more special than the other.
It is a seasonal reminder
That life’s moments are brief.
And there is beauty and a lesson to behold
If I just take nature’s cue.
All the blooms have paid their visit.
They fulfilled their roles to completion.
Now green leaves of every hue remain on the branches.
All the trees marinate and meld into just a tree
Where the blooms easily identified the species.
Now they are a forest of trees
Indistinguishable to the undiscerning eye.
One lone red maple stands out from the rest.
Does the species of tree matter to the nesting bird
Tending to their fragile, precious young?
Sturdy, tall, with camouflaged branches
They call home.
I call it nature’s greenery.
Nature’s symphony is at my door.
All I have to do is listen.
Each unique birdcall an instrument
The dog bark the percussion.
Small songbirds the flute.
Each call a pattern,
A song, a melody that makes up the whole.
I am surrounded by sound.
Pleasant, not pleasant
My ears hear it all.
What do you hear when you step outside?
An occasional firework goes off
even at this early morning hour.
The time to celebrate is always in order.
I listen and smile.
Where does inspiration come from?
It can be a fleeting idea,
A word or phrase that lights me up
And I want to become the explorer
of my own inner terrain.
It happens in solitude
And when I’m out in nature.
I feel most connected to
The wisdom of my heart.
Beauty always surrounds me,
Even in the mundane and hard times.
I just have to be willing
And open to see it.
When I connect to my heart and breath,
I feel I am taking an active role in my life.
I’m not getting carried away by the rushing tide
of emotions and circumstance.
In that moment, the magic happens.
I no longer have to struggle.
I can literally go with the flow.
Again, I return to the explorer within,
Who recognizes the difficulty in truly letting go
With surrender and vulnerability.
There is peace and ultimate freedom
To find creative solutions,
To take a beat before I react,
And to connect to my inner wisdom.
How does inspiration and the sacred come to you?
Deciduous trees start with a delicate beauty
And end in vibrant hues again.
The tree’s true colors are exposed.
There is no holding back,
conforming to standards
or blending in.
To spend the rest of your days
in that beautiful authentic expression
is something to behold and cherish.
without concern of backlash.
I celebrate the new blooms.
They remind me of a fresh start
And the excitement of something new.
Fragile like the robin’s nest
Sturdy and well made
But too low to the ground.
Not enough protection to promote healthy offspring.
Life is all around us.
The birds are learning too.
They must feel loss.
The robins lost their shelter, their home base.
Is it too late to try again?
Is nature a cruel teacher?
Not so if it prevents future loss of life.
We don’t punish the birds.
It’s the nature of things.
And death too is a part of that cycle
Whether we like it or not.
And we are a part of nature.
It can never be removed
No matter how urban and modern our surroundings.
The pink blossoms are in their full glory
And I am delighted.
The wild darling on the cusp of spring
The crocus has found its way to the surface
Having traveled over and over
In the same track as its predecessors.
The cold earth has found a softness,
And the lush green breathes into me.
The fragileness of new life.
The sun breathes out energy.
The seedlings desperately alchemize
And rapidly transforms.
Their ripe green petals mimicking grass
Kiss and pepper the earth.
I marvel at the emerald blades
That try to camouflage into the lawn.
They are hardy and make the perennial trip.
They wake me from my winter slumber
And remind me, even in the bitter harshness
of cold and darkness,
This too shall pass.
And my heart leaps to join the beauty,
To wear green and lie in the grass
Warm to the touch from the golden sun.
I touch the delicate petals
And thank them for this yearly gentle reminder.
A smile forms on my face.
The mourning doves have returned this year.
I wonder if the young couple will find
a more hardier, sturdier nesting place.
Nature is the greatest teacher.
I am a student of the Earth.
I am in awe of her glory
and ever-changing nature.
The Earth provides
Sustenance, life, beauty.
There’s always an opportunity
to tune in and learn.
I watch the outside world
from my window
Warm and cozy indoors.
Protected from the bitter cold
Freezing rain and icy terrain.
I know intuitively
That the snow will eventually melt
Like the ice caps on the mountains.
This too shall pass.
I am in tune to her nature.
I live and breathe the lessons.
I study her patterns
and accept what is out of my control.
My hands cup my warm mug of tea.
I take a sip.
The Earth is now in my cup.
In the water, the plants, and herbs.
I internalize her spirit
and continue to be
The ever-faithful pupil.
Nature is asleep.
The barren trees
A stark contrast
Against the sky.
What once blossomed
A forgotten memory.
What was jubilant
Now quiet, small and dark.
I take the cue and
Bring it inside.
Even in winter
I wish to bloom
To continue to grow
In mind and spirit
To stay connected
And tap into my inner
And outer strength.
The plant on my window sill
Finds warmth and nourishment.
The bird’s wing takes flight
In search for what
I know not.
Its determined flight
Beats into the sky.
There is no respite
When on the hunt.
We hunt for
Warmth and shelter.
We hunt for understanding
And being truly listened to
We seek counsel
In winter we take it inside.
The nature of the season
And I take the cue and bloom.