November

Is there anything left to be said

about the blaze of autumn leaves --

the way they let go with such graciousness,

how they dance on the wind

and crunch under the feet and glow

in the afternoon light?

Maybe just this:

The colours fade. They turn sodden as

milky cereal in the gutters and sidewalk.

The trees look tattered, and then

vulnerable and exposed. It turns out 

that loss is really loss. Which is every bit

as much a part of the story as 

autumn's glamour. Listen.

You are not obliged to be beautiful.

You don't have to shine.

Blooming will happen when it happens.

If you can be still for a moment.

you might notice that

the roots that feed you

are still reaching silently through the dark. 

--Lynn Ungar November 18, 2020