As the trees surrender their autumn leaves to winter's zephyr,
I am reminded of how difficult life is.
Even for these beings that have no lips to express the hardship of the arduous season,
and its constant return year after year.

I too must endure this season and its inevitable return,
outside and inside,
and retain my form,
through constant remembrance of my function to strive.

It is here,
I feel closest you,
and I wonder if they do too?

If they could speak,
would they rejoice this season?
would they revel in its struggle?
Knowing it brings them closer to you.

If they understood time like I do,
would they eagerly await the other seasons?
Knowing the conditions would be ripe to try again,
to grow again.

And if they could feel,
would they hope that their efforts would be rewarded with your permission?
Knowing that your permission,
and their joy,
will bring them closer to you?

And if they could speak,
would they tell me that they find you on both ends,
and  everything in between,
and could not find a place to be further away from you.