October 16, 2022
For as long as I can remember, Autumn has been a melancholy/bittersweet season for me. Amidst the splendor of the brilliant hues of the dying leaves, there is a sense of time gone by, a memory of mourning something, or someone, that cannot be reclaimed. Yet Autumn also offers each of us a choice: we can either hang on with all our might to what we think defines us, or we can let go and trust the wisdom of this season with its unending offers of possibility as acorns fall to the ground to become trees, and seeds from shriveled flowers waft in the wind. ~ Rosemary
Flint Creek in Autumn
Forrest Gump understood the feather had
a journey to take
drifting through
frame after frame
marking time’s passage.
But the lone leaf I watch
does not. It anchors itself
to the slender elm,
refusing the wind’s
invitation. Just yesterday, its companions let go
cascading
like amber
and scarlet butterflies
down the trail to the mossy green creek.
Some landed on soil some on
dusty picnic tables others remained in damp
clusters stuck
to the muddy red bank while
a few spun away riding the current
past saffron asters, purple thistle
enjoying their last great hurrah!
I wonder at the lone leaf’s
reluctance
to release its hold
when all around has fallen
having no choice
but to become
the change itself
to become the very dust
on the picnic table
or the musty soil
underfoot or the nutrient
that feeds the moss upon the
creek’s red bank.
But not yet.
I will that single leaf to let go
trust the wind
will it to take the journey
down the water below
spinning past aster and thistle
dizzying itself in the current
gazing up at the limbs
that released it
to become itself,
the messenger announcing
the passing of time
frame after frame.
© Rosemary McMahan
Spirit Reflections 