Sympathizing Spring:

vibrant, viable, and life-affirming in verdancing leaves –

leaves that stay,

and if sometimes one falls, a fanning branch

fawning before the sun, or a kernel

thrown down from the tight claw

of a creature enraged in the face of abundance,

that tree’s detritus is a distraction,

or ambience,

or affront

to the passerby who is too full of life.

The feral Fall comes for all,

and the barrage of its shedding husk

returning to the ground

is a parting of the veil on the fell Master of Seasons –

one now can see sons and daughters

who, too, are hurting.

The sloppy speckles are suddenly defined

–  not ambience, not offense –

the unique and exquisite fracturing

seen in every scene

by one who is – also – leaving.