The forest changes faces,
One leaf at a time,
Clearing the way
For an uncalculated, honest look.
Like shaving in my mirror,
No matter what’s behind my eyes alone,
The wear on my skin still shows.
The puzzle pieces make the scene.
Rocks covered with moss, and logs,
Fit together to show the damage of time.
Where holding on became a force too great.
Sagging with the contours of the land,
Stresses of years, and the elements.
Each season, a new question,
A wonder of dreams changing,
But the slope always holds the same pitch.
The evolving floor settles in,
After the leaves have finished
Dancing and running about in the wind.
New life to spring,
Through past decay.
A new and winning smile shines through.
Time in years mounts and seems to gather speed,
But in the end, a day is still a day.
Enough time to plan into reality,
To traverse the slope,
And smile at the sunlight.
There are still many paths to follow.
Rick Wyman ©