Leaves are still falling

Movement is always happening.

It seems the hands of the clock never take a break, and I wonder what I would have to do to, like Joshua, to ask for the sun to stand still for just one second.

Last autumn seemed to have flown away from me.

The busyness of life caught up to me and my body decided to shut down.

Cancelled plans, cancelled stories, and cancelled coffee dates, though somehow I still showed up for a meeting with a senator’s office to talk about immigration, but everything else went on hold.

Yet the hands of the clock moved along, and nothing else seemed to stop, just me.

I am just now having the energy to process the end of last summer, which ended with moments that revived my story. The autumn came and went but my leaves are still falling.

A few years ago I wrote about how I wondered if trees knew that they were still alive during a harsh winter.

I still wonder, and I still talk to them to remind them that winter isn’t here forever. Maybe I talk to them to remind myself too.

We’ve been holding on to the last bit of color
forgetting gray skies are full of hues too
o trees
don’t let the touch of a cold heart
trick you into believing you’re not full of life

Do you think they hold on to hope?
I hope they do.