Autumn

Familiar faces fall away like leaves with the turning weather. Is everyone stuck on such a temporary state of mind? Can nothing be found in the solidity of my trunk or strength of my roots to inspire one to hang on, even through the changing seasons? There are a few reoccuring blooms, that emerge in the spring and flourish in the summer. But I'm barren in the months before then. My bark is riddled with symbols and initials forever recording a moment in time most likely forgotton by those who carved it. A fleeting moment of theirs that I am given to carry with me always. A space for rest, respite, reflection and stillness. But never permanent. Such is the life of a tree.