There’s something magic about the quiet rush of wind and falling leaves
Prosaic happenings with poetic beauty
Did you stop to watch them fall?
The change of seasons, effortless, natural
Life goes on, pull in, gather up, conserve
Energy is survival
But the evergreen begs to differ
Not quite so elegant as alder or oak
Not quite so picturesque as birch or maple
But the pine, the fir, the cedar—
Deathly chill only makes them stronger.
What would quell the life from another gives them a solitary beauty
A prized survival
A hallowed place
Tannenbaum, stately and proud
Does not droop under the heavy weight of falling snow
Clash of fronts, stormy winds
Constant rain, damp cold vitality
Hardens the body, makes the needles ripple
The deathly chill of quiet moments
When I’m not sure if the sun will ever shine again
Moments of mundane rhythms
And will I ever feel an awakening of purpose?
The evergreen says yes
Bark and needle, make a home in the deep freeze
Noble fir, look to the icy sunlight
Will the sun to come
And when this winter ends, the spring will feel all the warmer
For enduring the winter when all else dwindled.