it’s the leaves, you know
it’s all their doing

masters modeling
this seasonal slip
into surrender

tree lungs
teaching me
the truth of
living

the way they
rest so trustingly
in the crooked
grey-brown
dips and hollows
between tree knees

the way they
rustle and sigh
soft relief sweeps
as they gift first
tree then air then earth
with their willingness
with their fading wild beauty
with their wisdom
in resting
in becoming
ground

oh…but it’s the
promise of their
tender green rise
of their commitment
to return, to persist,
to breathe for the world
again

this teaching
tangles it’s fierce
in weary ligaments
stretches itself along
overworn muscle fibers

wraps itself around
brittling bones and beating heart
tugging this crone woman
to her feet and into
the grace of
another
day