MY SEASON… a poem

To be young, lush, and full of life again.

To be the canopy.

To be seen strong and vibrant.

To feel the gentle tickle of the morning dew

And delight in the afternoon rain.

To sway in the winds and capture the sun’s rays.

Oh, but first I become naked and vulnerable

As I embark on this harsh, cold season of my life.

Then, when the stars have shone and Mother Earth

Has eclipsed old Sol

I will again rise to glory.

Come Spring…

Come Spring…

brown wooden bench beside tree