The View from Here

  
The path before me is strewn with leaves,

Broken, brown, with shots of faded red and yellow. 

The season in my Southern town moving toward winter yet again in fits and jerks, 

I walk this way each morning, in my mind’s eye seeing glimmers of this place, my home, in the pristine green canopy of spring, and the crystalline quiet of winter snow. 

The same place, many different faces.

At first, the dreary brown and crumbled leaves make my heart heavy,

The months of starkness, of cold, to come,

But those months bring with them gifts, too,

Of introspection, celebration, and reflection. 

Each season has its purpose in nature and in our lives,

Beginnings, endings, only to begin again,

The circle of life. 

Instead of a heavy heart, I will look for the gifts of this season;

I will see the brown and crumpled leaves as a carpet of hope,

Leading the way to the next chapter,

And instead of grieving the loss of warmth and life,

I will cherish quiet talks by the fire and holiday cheer. 

Each moment is precious, and I won’t spend my life complaining about a turn of the calendar, or a change in my path. 

Seek the beautiful and the good, 

It is there in every season,

Waiting to embrace open hearts and minds, dancing with joy.