How often I have traveled on autumn-painted days,
letting my spirits fall with the leaves,
unaware of the need in nature for opposition,
ignorant of spring’s promise inherent in the fall.
With new eyes,
and awakened understandings,
I walk the same careworn paths
strewn haphazardly with yellow deaths,
browned and broken dreams of summer-tuned trees;
amid tokens of endings
pondering other resurrections.