The morning air is still,
Libra moon hangs full, ripe and low.
The winds were here last night,
Neighbor’s blooming pink dogwood tree, torn in half.
Unsteady fences blown down,
Branches litter the streets.
Change will come.
If we are ready or if we are not.
Grateful the car I didn’t make my daughter move
Is left unharmed.
Sky in the east a stormy yellow pink glow
Looming in intensity over the mountains.
How can I best engage this coming change?
Not push it too fast or resist it too much.
Can I stay present with each easy breath
Trusting the next contraction will be okay?
Acutely aware of the weak branches of my life,
Imagine the lightness if they were to fall away?
The evergreen trees accepted the winds with grace,
Letting the great forces have their way with them.
They were rooted in one another and swayed together.
Moving in a powerful harmonic cleansing dance.
When the sun rose this morning
They still stood, offering their branches with love.
To whom am I rooted?
To help me weather the storm.
Can our hearts sway together
And our hands hold strong?
The sun is already shining again.
Take a breathe, notice your roots.
Are you are ready this time,
For the next ecstatic wind to blow?