The weather and I have much in common,
The ups and downs.
The cold, the warm.
The light, the dark,
Mixed into intervals of feeling and change.
Mature and I have much in sequence.
Flowers fight into spring,
Trees fight through winter,
and they leave things behind
to grow more beautiful within time.
There are things that destroy,
which leads to rising above.
Fires leave ash,
which allows flowers to grow,
where the forests have died.
Where the sun has witnessed death,
it nourishes and cleanses
and heals the wounds,
of everything it brushes.