The View from Here

The trees trembled, kissed by the cold wind,

their leaves raining down in a riot of color.

Somehow the light was different, softer, everything changing,

and I wasn’t ready.

I clung to the warmth of the summer past, the perfume of flowers and the joy of carefree days.

I clung to my youth and to the possibilities that no longer were;

But the season’s change beckoned with a siren song, inevitable,

and I could no longer live in the shadows of time gone by.

A life lived is in this moment,

and so I cling to the beauty of now,

to the wisdom of age,

and to the possibilities that unfold with each and every breath I take.