Renewal

Silver shadows, moving in piney woods golden leaves, on stick thin branches Touching, grating, letting their presence known On the ground, seemingly dead things move In the breeze, bronze shapes flutter and lift Then rest, to wait for winter’s chill, and springtime rains To nourish, the great roots of nearby trees, dormant yet alive Golden leaves set the stage, for sunlit growth and warmer days To come, when life will sprout and grow once again In due time these too will bronze, die and fall To sustain the forest crust and renew thick wood Nature’s promise held in silver shadows, moving in piney woods