I have a thing about trees. I can’t explain it. There’s this one particular tree on a neighbor’s farm that I’ve photographed 100s of times at sunrise, as in getting in my car at sunrise and racing there to catch it coming up behind that tree. I’ve photographed it with leaves, without leaves, he is like a friend…. and I’ve pulled over many times and cried there especially when Mama was so sick.

One of my dreams has always been to see the sequoias and when I did a couple of weeks ago, it was like I’d met my nature kin, lol. Their magnificence, filled with stories, is overwhelming.

Anyway, I wrote some autumn poems a few years ago, and this was my first. I feel we have so much in common with the trees with our own spring of vibrancy, our winters when roots are taking hold to prepare for life, and our inevitable fall seasons as our colors change and our strength to hold on is fading… but knowing we are so loved by the one who made us.

DRIFTING FREE

During their spring,
the leaves cling to the tree,
thriving, surviving,
holding on through the breeze.

Then as the fall comes,
they start to drift all around,
as they quietly, softly,
flutter to the ground.

A carpet of color
so rich to see,
colors we didn’t know
they could be.

They served the tree well,
each leaf on the tree,
each part of the beauty
we all get to see.

As they drift on the air,
they feel light and free,
believing and knowing
they were loved by the tree.

Then at last they’re content,
to rest and shine in the sun,
a part of their story,
a job well done.

Tracey