Cracked Veins

We are changing, like the leaves.

Foliant greens fade auburn under the hibernating sun.

Quiet whispers,

Gentle breezes.

A sharp breath in to aid my patience,

Mother Nature exhales.

Cool is the air surrounding me,

A comfortable icy presence in my lungs.

Our fate is surely determined.

Oh,

How these leaves go.

Floating to the frozen earth,

Crunching beneath thick-soled boots.

Moving fast,

Searching for a better place to land,

Before the cold sets in.

We are trying to be the leaves,

To rest with ease,

And change only in color when winter arrives.

But we are not the leaves,

And the leaves are not us.

If only

We didn’t change

This fast.