I am one of these leaves,
falling.
I am one of these trees, letting go
of what once gave life, but now doesn’t.
I am one of these migrating birds,
led great distances to the unseen.
I am one of these wildflowers,
scattering seeds before I die.
I am the little stream
that receives and gives.
I stand in this meadow
dying, becoming new.
__________________
Weather Report
Unceasing,
as momentary patterns
shift, repeat and vary.
Expect the cycle to continue,
with singing in the upper latitudes,
long beyond your dying.
Cooler tonight.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net