Leaving

In the spring, 

as I unfurled myself

like leaves budding on a branch

reaching out to the sun for warmth,

I was excited about tomorrow

nourished and encouraged 

by caring companions: 

weaving and believing in endless possibilities.

In the summer, we danced together in the gentle wind

supporting each other during the storms that came and went swiftly:

Most of us growing stronger— withstanding each storm---

Perceiving we were invincible.

But.. . . .some didn’t survive the storm and fell away.

In the autumn of my life

more friends are fading, getting weaker, leaving.

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

Ever so gently falling. No longer believing, 

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?