Ego of the trees burning away,
green to gold to bourbon fade.
Night stays long – the candle’s friend,
a majestic unwind curls spring’s next grin.
So now we may waltz with what sheds in the fall
for there’s no other way to rise through it all.
Grounded in love and making room for the bloom,
Autumn, the first verse of what’s ‘to be continued’…
Ashton.Gustafson 