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Brown to green to brown
Brown to green to brown
By jfarrell
So the leaves have changed since I sobered up;
Spring was starting
And now autumn, fall, is tapping on my shoulder;
From winter brown to spring green, back to brown.
As a hot summer cools to a warm (hopefully) autumn,
The leaves go through their red phase,
More blood red than brown;
The trees rain blood, as if in protest at what they see.
And maybe, we should listen to them;
Most of the trees are older than any living person;
If they could speak
What wisdom, what secrets might they share?
Maybe, there is only one wisdom, one truth;
“Stop worrying; He will provide”;
I’ve yet to see a tree exhausted with stress;
Or worrying where its next meal is coming from.
From brown to green to brown;
With a little scarlet, a little blood letting;
Maybe, this winter, the trees will wear their frosty cloaks; silver white;
And, maybe I will appreciate it more, than I did before.
