October Poem (to my friends, the trees)

The trees do not judge, they never have.
I used to sing to them when I was young.
They stand in an eternal moment this morning.
I breathe in the cold wet air and smell regrets, and the sweetness too.

I love October so much, always have. She is in my heart, I hold her close.
When trees change color, it’s really a returning to their true colors, as the
chlorophyll seeps away and their real colors come through.

In the beautiful green Spring, they were actually hiding.
They teach us to be brave and to just.let.go.

Dark tree bones against orange pink skies still make me gasp.
They are so darkly graphic and real.
There is a starkness to the truth of things.

Returning to school, returning to self, there is such nostalgia.
We tell ourselves it is OK, we will be fine.
They are small prayers, carried off by the wind.

October, you are complicated. There are many layers.
My grateful eyes well up with the tangled knowing of all that is. All that is.