Leathery green and ancient,

strength in the shape of a fan

– the gingko leaf,

unassuming from a distance,

up close a marvel that makes you feel privileged to see

something

others don’t.

Among its fellow fans,

a September spectacle.

– enjoying life while green and life while yellow,

not falling into the human trap of discontent when a phase of life

does not exactly meet your needs.

Am I happier when single or in union with another?

Am I more myself when accomplished or when acknowledging failure?

Do I thrive when rooted to the ground, or when following the whims of my daydreams?

Or could it be, like the gingko, peace does not come

in a certain state,

but in the knowing of the impermanence of

every state.

It takes one cold snap,

or a sudden burst of wind,

for all the leaves to surrender to their autumn role.

If they hold on the tree will die,

so with kindness they fall,

(how considerate they are)

so that their host will retain the nourishment it needs

to survive the winter.

Gliding from one moment to the next,

just as you nurture your own roots,

transformation being the only option,

holding your beauty both in reverence and with tenderness

so that when it is your turn to turn yellow,

it does not surprise you

at all.


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