The other side

It was the falling which called my attention.
The silhouetted branches gradually devoid of cover
Stark black barren. Slick with recent rains and shaking like cold veins in the morning sun

The other side was green and great and still crowned with verdant glory.
Goldening in the misty autumn

Season of falling and failing the last threads of life still clinging like web to the branch collecting dew.

I think of you. As age approaches.
Your senses more ripe and less attuned
Misty the eye and moist. Takes sharp edges off sight and loves what it sees as seasoned memory pours through the veil.

I will lose you and it will be like the cracking of a brittle twig. Fit for the earth not flight. Not a perch for deaths dark birds.  But for now you still have that other side, the one that carried so much fruit and yielded so much joy.

The sun rises in your leafy branches and you shake of the rainy breeze. Just another winter sneeze. Don't think too hard about the other side.

Joe Morriss
Inspired by Aidan Ashby's morning tree.
October 2016