Green things change,
become the color of surprise,
the color of gratitude,
the color of morning.
Bees still buzz quietly
but it is the color of letting go.
The color of something inside you.
An eye opens, and closes.
A reckoning, even as leaves fall:
not subtracting, but adding up.
Seed pods lift their empty hands
and blacken, become still.
Trees tunnel down into themselves.
Garden plants become song.
They are not dying, not giving up.
They are getting ready for something new.
A day also otherwise,
as even mourning bears joy,
and the beginning of autumn here
signals in the Southern Hemisphere,
where also our beloved live,
Spring’s splendid revival.