Delicate

what do we allow to lie, hiding,
in the margins of our silence?
in the sinking absence of all impetus?

autumn leaves change not by choice,
but by necessity,
a silent, inevitable reaction to all time passed,
to all interaction that came before,
an inherent response to the wholeness of their surroundings,
to their experience of living

first, it is a slow loss,
almost imperceivable,
then a maelstrom of many stimuli at once,
eventually becoming the catalyst to something so beautiful and transforming,
it feels extraordinary,
because it is

then, there is a necessary letting go,
a freeing and frightening fall whose landing transforms into something fertile,
something that slowly,
not painlessly,
decomposes to feed their own roots,
to prepare them for days to come

what do autumn leaves know that we do not?
what lies in the margins of our silence,
in the delicacy of our awe?

Seasons

Freeze from sapphire heavens creates white earth,
melting to steady rain, sparking rebirth.
Soon, sun burns a fierce smolder,
long days turn to nights colder,
as colors fall, fading, crackling last mirth.

*An older limerick resurrected in celebration of the start of my summer!

Gardening

the sweet glow of summer rests,
ripened to golden on cheeks,
as fastidious fingers tug and pull
that which is not meant
to take root

a curious breeze blows welcomed secrets,
as deliciously sore muscles
and hard-earned sweat
unearth truths once hidden
beneath the now upturned
soil and rocks

anxious leaves rustle a whispered concerto
in the tree tops,
as she gathers herself in handfuls,
piece by organically grown piece,
leaving behind for fertilizer
that which is no longer useful
above ground

and when the work for today is done,
she rests,
under the blue light of the August moon,
ready for the change a’comin’

-image credit Pinterest; shared as part of dVerse Poets Open Link Night; also shared as part of Mindlovemisery’s tale weaver