being better

I have come to the woodsseeking insight where I have found it beforeand I am not left wanting:there is an ancient, violent wisdom at work,the wisdom in cycles, in the taking of turns,in the clearing away of that whose time has passed.something must rotfor something else to live.getting here, I saw a foxon the side of the road, newly dead.now I find once-brilliant leaves

have fallen and obscured my path,

fragrant in their decay.

the woods are not cruel, I know–

merely indifferent– and yet

so often to me they seem the same.

when the rotting leaves

have turned to mud,

there is no going back

to how things were before.

that which survives the winter freeze

is that which has learned to change,

that which has figured out how

to be better.

poem and photo (c) 2016 D. Ohlandt

please only reprint in entirety and with credit given

#40for40