The Dao

A breeze in autumn carries the leaves

to a new world that accepts them like rain.

The rain brings the ground the needed nourishment

and in turn, the sky begins to sing.

It is the way of things for life to flow like the river,

gorged on what the sky gives her.

Rivers feed the trees whose roots reach out

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and find the waiting arms of rivers.

Before the long lived wood has long fallen in their home,

and given it’s body for the good of their children.

Soon frost begets snows of winter’s bitter truths,

that hasten the long, dark, night.

Like winter, the spring seems far away from the here and now,

and always naïve of the plans of men.

Such is the way.