Golden Tree

One golden tree,

Glows in an open field,

Shedding memories;

Of new spring buds,

And rising energy,

Of languid summer days,

Soft rain and storms,

Growing and stretching its’ limbs toward the sky.

And now the turn,

Cold and frost,

Slowing the flow of sap,

In preparation for winter.

A period of stasis,

Of rest and stillness,

Gathering for the next season,

Now that previous ones are past.

This golden tree knows time,

And moves with it.

Without protest,

Without hanging on,

Taking what is useful,

And letting go of the rest.