Placing my feet, one in front of the other,

I am tightrope walking on the fine line of changing tides,

of seasons melting, one into the next…

Summer fading fast, Autumn breezes rousing the leaves.

 

Already dense, woody aromas begin to coalesce amongst the fallen ones.

Their secret chatter heard only by a few lonely trees

and the shiny insects that live beneath the defeated leaves.

 

Their whispers are of the year passed—

A reminiscing of their early triumphs upon the dawn of Spring,

seemingly evergreen freshness of Summer evenings,

and finally and most gloriously

the colorful robes they bore to introduce Autumn’s lore.

 

Now, crisp and crumbling beneath my boot,

these leaves—children of the trees

quietly cry, but not in pain over their passing lives,

but with humbly bestowed sighs

that ever they could be, dancing ornaments of the sky.

 

The sublime beauty of this sight,

stirs my senses with tears in my eyes

And I reflect on how we, too, are ever changing,

ever passing and ever living at the same time.

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Assistant Ed: Judith Andersson / Ed: Bryonie Wise