The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold… JM
These past few weeks, I have been invited to a party
hosted by Mother Nature.
Her paintbox explodes as far, as far…
Serene green is slowly morphing into fiery landscapes
of autumn finery- signaling potential. A new light play
is on offer.
Stark changes evolve as the foliage flames; my question:
what changes? what does not change?
In the autumn of my life, how will I answer?
Celebration: flame, lacy, brown crowns- each plays inevitably.
Invitations -what is there to say about leaves?
Red and yellow and orange and brown…
Each shape transforms its reality by letting go
of tree and branch, journeying lazily on the wind towards
a new truth…a new geography awaits.
Treasured, collected, photographed, valued.
These variegated carpets- so freely offered.
Compost piles: agents of reincarnation-
soil for new growth and opportunity.
What am I prepared to let go of?
What am I allowing to begin? Legacy?
Conversations of living:
Spoken, chirped, skittered, hidden: each a pause-
an insight into transience and transition. Cycles.
Our human nature also lives in cycles. I am aware of mine-
and have come to understand that embedded in every ending
is a beginning. Over is such an ‘overused’ word.Think spring.
Relationships become apparent as stark silhouettes reach for the sky
Anchored in the earth and communicating with above and around-
mediums to remind us of strength and acceptance.
despite the winds of circumstance and experience, the essential me remains.
What about my own relationships with myself, with other? How do I communicate?
Sun, wind, rain, others of my kind- I share and connect as do trees, each in their way- inspiring hope, peace, calm.
The web of life.
The party continues and I am alive.
Life composts and seeds us as autumn does the earth. P. Palmer