the beautiful letting go

The glittering gold of Fall leaves can be intoxicating. They help remind us that it is only by letting go that the process of renewal can begin.

Even though Robert warned nothing gold can stay

I’ve allowed myself to become intoxicated by Fall’s glitter

drunk on the glory and exaltation.

Mary thinks the leaves long for the comfort of the ground

free from the freshets of wind

but I believe they love the dance.

Today while I wandered urban arbors, taunted by red and yellow,

John’s close-bosom friends of the maturing sun

whispered, nay, shouted their seasonal sermon.

Gwendolyn was not deceived with the staying sun and singing birds.

She knew it was not still summer.

And I too know what’s next.

Emily says she did not mind the lengthening night and shortening day.

Neither am I afraid.

I know what follows this beautiful letting go.

With a nod and thanks to Robert Frost, Mary Oliver, John Keats, Gwendolyn Brooks, and Emily Bronte for helping me investigate the wonder of Autumn.