Soft, lush and green
maple leaves,
hanging supple and loose
from strong, sturdy limbs.
Breezes and winds
blow gently, then harshly
through leaves that wave,
pliant, without struggle,
without resistance;
hardly seeming to notice
life’s rhythms move through them,
imperceptibly changing
their shape, their color, their texture.
Months and days, even mere moments,
subtly, leaves grow dormant,
accepting this life is complete.
No regret, no grasping, no struggle,
release their last, fragile hold,
turned now to a golden brown,
easily let go, and float to the ground.
Snow will cover those
once green remains,
turning again to soil.
Renewal begins, a sure, slow pace,
Rebirth: such lovely, pure grace.
©Janet Mitchell, November 2011
