Born, then a whole season gifted
Shades of green
Yellow, orange
Then brown
Brisk suns
Moonlit skies
Warm breezes
Frigid starless nights
Now brings the color of rest
A full season’s gift
Dangling
Swaying
Pirouetting for a passerby
Or a gassho, perhaps?
Connected, yet…
No clinging
No releasing
No yearning for the ground
No yearning for things as they are, were, or someday might be
Just one with the anchor
…and one with the breeze, who will soon set free
Gifted a whole season
At the pivot of nothingness
One with all, all that is and all that will be