Sister Wind brushed through the golden leaves
spilling them on the Autumn grass…
Her hurried song could be heard in the silence of the day
as though it was her duty to glean the branches of its beauty.
Birch tree hung on to its children
not wanting to let them go…
But, alas, the forward passage of the promise
could not hold sway and off they traveled
shedding their birthright, transforming themselves
into their new way of being…
With each birth, comes the letting-go…
the song of yesterday builds the beauty of tomorrow…
Very lovely !
❤ ❤ ❤ S.w.e.e.t.
Love this picture, Jane 🙂
I like a lot my dear 🙂
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Merci beaucoup, Gys! I am also happy when I see YOU have been here—you with your dear romantic, poetic heart! Thank you! Your comment means much!