On Deciduous Plants in the Winter Cycle

(it’s like this)
and now I lay me down to sleep.
old leaves breaking free,
falling to the earth,
to break apart in the soil.
old dreams will nourish new ones.

soon, my roots will sense water
soon, the sun warming me
will activate my enzymes
and it will be time to create life.
but I am not an evergreen.

I need this sleep,
this rest, this quiet.
it is in the dark, biting chill
that I remember who I am.
my name is strength.

do you recall the drudgery
we endured, fighting to
reach high enough to
capture sunlight, while
claiming our true powers?
we did not imagine that.

do you believe me when I say,
the day must die or
tomorrow will never come
and we will never know that
we don’t live in the future,
because we only see the past?

“should’ve” didn’t happen.
“what if” isn’t real.
“but I could’ve” is no true measure.
(and “I wish I’d known” doesn’t
grow well in this climate.)

so we rest from resolutions
because we don’t know what
tomorrow will mean.
and so we craft new mantras;
the old ones didn’t let us sleep.

and so we keep our dreams
safe, in our deep roots.
not in our cold hands, too
tightly grasping onto all that
we might lose.

we won’t lose anything,
though we will grieve.
we will remember how
to grow, come spring.
when it’s warm, we’ll
be full of seed.

(that’s how it is.)