Black crow glides between fall red maples on still wings
banks slowly and gracefully coming to a two hop stop.
A clutch of tiny sparrows swoop down and alight as one
in the golden green crown of a tree readying for winter.
Even the evergreens on the hillside carry their share
of tan dead leaves among the green waiting a storm’s
windy rainy fingers to pluck them free to return to their Mother.
Dissolving was. Resolving is. Creating what shall be.
Nothing is forgotten. Another transformation.
Results of a path taken are remembered in life’s flesh.
Denial and avoidance fruitlessly repeat a sad story
unwilling to squeeze through the needle’s eye,
blocking the way with pride, arrogance, certainty.
Life creates a truth awaiting our awakening.
Love calls softly to us, before we are able to choose,
leaves signs and miracles in plain sight.
Despised by the powerful of the world we make
love comes meek and humble with arms wide spread
so much like death and birth.
Yellow green leaves shiver in a breeze whispering mystery’s name.
Crow caws and cu-cuck-cu-cu-cucks the name from her darkness.
Sparrows in their wheeling flight as one sign the name.