Leaving

In the spring, 

we unfurled ourselves

like leaves budding on a branch

reaching out to the sun for warmth,

excited about tomorrow:

nourished and encouraged 

by friends: 

inter-weaving our lives, 

believing in endless possibilities.

In the summer, 

we danced together in the gentle wind

supporting each other during the storms that came swiftly:

Most of us growing stronger— 

withstanding each storm---

perceiving we were invincible.

But.. . . .some didn’t survive the storm 

and 

fell 

away: 

leaving us behind.

In the autumn of my life,

my friends are getting weaker and leaving.

Some can’t hold on even on a quiet day:

Ever so gently falling. 

I struggle to hang on. 

I’m weary of grieving.

What will the winter bring?

A long restorative rest, 

or

will I fly away on the winter wind?