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
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