The quiet of winter melts.
The cold grip that clung to the trees
Exhales at winter’s end.
I am wide awake to a yet
On the cusp,
The verge of new life.
The cycle begins.
The seeds of intention are planted.
I patiently wait to receive
I’m ready for what’s next,
Even while stepping into the unknown.
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.