Connection

The Deciduous Tree (Part 3)

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.

Forever patient.
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.




Connection

The Spring Crocus

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,
An opening.
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.