Is pelting this windswept day
With cold rain
Stripping the threadbare leaves
Russet and amber
From the yielding trees
Pasting them to the windshield of my car
Parked in the driveway.
Ignoring my desires
And shallow discontent
They speak to me of letting go
And transformation
These transcendental couriers.
My feet are not soaked
Nor my brow dripping
And so gifted with this reluctant retreat
I am allowing myself this point of view
And other lessons perhaps
Given through such acts
Of random generosity.
And you?
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