Withering season

Outside, all alone

the wind howls

your bones chill

the sun wanes

and your leaves shrivel up.



This too shall pass

your roots will spread

you come from a long lineage

of hearty survivors

and bigger fish.



Just don’t forget the little fish

long gone food for naught, not you.

Chewed for thought, spit back out

into the exact place that you can take root and grow

mature into your own adulthood

generate your own budding, scatterable

seeds of thought.

mww – 12-05