For everything, there is a season, it has been foretold. When I was young and green, securely clinging to the branches of my family Sugar Maple tree, I thought it was the best I would ever be. But here, now, in the Autumn season of my life , rich with vibrant color that represents the wisdom of my age, I see what then, I did not know. Green to yellow to orange to red, I have graced this landscape with the glory of my aging, and have brought pleasure and beauty to my Mother Earth. I release my grip from the branch on which I was raised, and flutter slowly to the ground with grace, knowing that returning to the earth from whence I came is my destiny in the cycle of life, and I will return, in season.
I find something beautifully heartbreaking about the sound of a string quartet playing in a minor key. As the first bow glides across the strings my heart moves in ways unknown to me. I close my eyes and imagine I
Tiny droplets from the tap; perfect timing of the sap. Trees’ free gifts of God’s great bounty; wooden buckets in every county. Then to kitchen and to table, a syrup known for years, since cradle. And golden color everywhere, lights
Standing alone staring at the flowing stream Saw those many floating with a swing and a beam And then came this slender tender one Dancing in the jocund company of another one For a while I thought it stopped at
A dead leaf on ground It fell off found itself weak All pass over yet no one cares But the wind which carries it Somewhere away may be Suitable to grow again To have the rebirth journey It struggles but