Autumn

Can death bring life?
Can pain bring beauty?

Leaves fall like time, so quiet that I barely notice.
Yet I look upon the crimson, burnt ground.
Here is my evidence; I smile to think so.
This cycle comes and goes like rain and snow.
It is good, though, this thing.Like my heart, I think.
This is a natural thing.
Sometimes-all of the time-I have to die to see life.
I have to sacrifice to see the garish green to see the branches.
They are what is important-they are me.
They are me and the earth and sun and rain are God.
I bow in respect. My roots are deep.
I long to feel more of the earth, to feel its very core.
I stretch, I grow, I thrive.Yet there is more...