High up in the gray sky
tall firs sway in a wind
not felt beside the pond
glistening in the day’s last light
abandoned by geese and ducks
even in this mild winter.
I plod along the empty path
watching branches far above
catch and wave in Oregon color
as I wave to the lives I’ve lived
gone like the geese of winter,
wondering what will come on this wind,
if I will rise like evergreen sap
for another spring, another pulse of life,
searching through my inner darkness
for the knowledge of a seed
and a spark of love to see it through.