Lindsay Kolasa

in the whispering tree forest
where wind sways branches
where sun barely reaches core

there — on the forest floor
leaves are piling thick
as the Fall nears

feathers,
stones,
dust and dirt,
the bones of the dead

are scattered
and matted
until the floor becomes
dense with the memories
of what was before.

in the Fall
the hardest song to sing is sung
sucking the air
from our greatest height
all to stow it away
for safe keeping
deep in the cave of Winter.

this heavy coat
of leaves and twigs
lies weighty on the ground
like a faithful dog
that only wants to nap
at your feet until sunrise…

under that forest floor
is a treasure chest
of what’s possible…
those tender shoots of Spring-time
always find their way
to the other side;
no one has to tell them to try.

even though the cities’ streets
are swept clean of this —
no circle
no cycle
no hint of the Earth’s revolution —
there are ways to remember.

to stay awake friends, remember —
in the face of death,
embrace life.
in the throws of life,
honor death.

sip the dew from petals
during the mornings of Spring-time.

put a piece of ripe melon in your mouth
to savor Summer’s sweetness.

put an acorn in your pocket
to remember the tree that was a seed in the Fall.

tuck a feather behind your ear
to keep it light in the dark of Winter.

and above all —
through all the seasons of life…
now, follow my instructions carefully…
on the windowsill
of your heart,
write the word ‘TRUST’
with your fingertip
wet with brilliant indigo…
blow it gently to dry
and enjoy the ride.

July 22, 2010