A Forest’s Breath

Art by Janis Dehler

Leaves rise on autumn winds,
then drift to the earth below.
In accumulation they mound
for winter homes until decay
creates sustenance for the soil 
to nourish spring growth.

Yet one silver maple 
stands adorned in yellow cloak,
not ready to let go.
“I get it,” I say, as I step 
into the cold morning air, 
in this aging body
that so readily sloughs off old cells.
I cling to memories, loved ones, 
and all the precious colors of a life lived.

Beneath the maple, webs of exhalation,
breath moving through earthen conversations 
with ash and oak and elm,
all dancing in the breeze of a shared story.

I too seek those who understand this relinquishing
as I shall one day open my arms
with a heart both willing and uncertain,
upon a gentle sigh, 
release all that I hold dear,
to kiss the ground and be transformed,
to be nutriment for enduring life.