Adjusting to life's changes with hope… through poetry, haiku, and commentary

The Season is Changing


I thought I’d write about sea gulls because
I had nothing to say. But I know nothing
about sea gulls. How about the wind?

So, I looked out my window. The branches
were blowing back and forth in the cooling
desert air. Like me. I speak; no one hears.

I need the wind to whisper or the trees to
talk back! Tell me something. The only
thing I hear is the faint faraway sound

of a jet flying overhead from here to
somewhere but not where I can see. Does
it matter if I tell you that I did coffee and

I’ve done tea? Got up for a glass of water
which is very unlike me. I can’t shake it
off; reality won’t vanish, won’t go away.

My mind is pacing the floor while I sit still.
Isn’t it true? You are willing to wait until
you have to, until waiting becomes a test

that wasn’t your idea. I have to accept what
I don’t know. I look out again. The wind is
still blowing. Is it really speaking to me?

How easy to be a tree! Its trust is well rooted.
(Not really trying to be funny; I’m serious
as I can be.) Do trees ask the wind where it

came from or why me? I think the wind
gave me a hint of what I couldn’t see—that
the season is changing for the trees and me.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Basic HTML is allowed. Your email address will not be published.

Subscribe to this comment feed via RSS

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: