Winds of Change

It’s time to close up shop from the summer sun,

and watch the changing of the guard breathe in a new season

Where the earth beckons the trees to release their offering,

like alms for the needy

A coat of many colors is woven upon the forest floor,

preparing for winter’s cold shoulder, united they bind together,

dissolving what is no longer needed

 It’s time when my own limbs begin to feel these notions of change

Reminding me of the whispered lessons from the trees I once knew

If only it was as easy as they’ve shown me, to let go, to release,

but I tend to hold on too long to the power of memories

Yet the desert knows none of these forest traditions, she only knows how the winds of change breathe through her valleys, sweeping her rigid landscape into a pattern of lightly tinted brush strokes

There is no mercy for the stable here,

one must learn to yield and adapt in order to survive

This is her testimony in resilience,

relying upon deeply rooted beads of wisdom,

hidden underneath the surface of the sun,

unfazed by those fickle winds of change