In the quiet heart of Autumn, where amber leaves descend,
There lies a lesson in each golden branch that bends.
These trees, in graceful ease, surrender to the air,
Their leafy hands unfurl, releasing every care.
Each leaf once green with spring's eager, pulsing light,
Turned to gold and crimson in Autumn's softer sight.
No longer bound by summer's heat or spring's early grace,
They drift to earth with beauty, accepting time and space.
And if these trees, so rooted, so steadfast, so bold,
Can trust the fading sun and brave the coming cold,
Perhaps, like them, I too might loosen what I hold,
Let go of what was mine, of all that's grown too old.
For in the letting go, I find a tender peace,
A whispered promise, sweet, of freedom in release.
What once I clung to fiercely, now softens in the breeze,
Transforming loss to wisdom, as memory leaves with ease.
The tree does not grieve its branches bare and stark;
It stands in calm surrender as night drapes close and dark.
Its strength is not in clinging, but in the grace to bend,
To shed its worn-out stories, and trust the silent end.
So, as the Autumn teaches with patience, kind and wise,
I watch my past drift gently, like leaves beneath gray skies.
In this quiet bravery, I find a path to free
The weight I once embraced, what used to be just me.
And with each leaf I loosen, with every breath released,
I plant new roots of courage, my spirit's song increased.
For as the trees let go and rest in winter's sleep,
So too, I trust the cycles, in letting go, I keep.
Copyright 2024 Savva Emanon ©