the wind is from the west
clouds scud low and dark
yellow leaves mark the grass
birds are leaving
soon it will be time
to feed the ones that remain
a robin scampers across the grass
they are the last to depart
the first to return
the fawns have lost their white spots
they are now grey and brown
and follow their mothers
unsuspecting of the winter months to come
i heard geese honking in the night
~
how many countless winters
have been renewed by spring?l
the planet is fine
it is itself a long slow cycle of death and birth
it does not need saving
it is we who want her to remain the same forever
as if we will always exist
have we learned nothing?
all we have is now
