All that is true is found in nature
hence,
we learn from observation,
contemplation, and trust.

Behold the sapling,
once rich in color,
vibrant,
now grayed and dying.

Yet we know upon the seasons morrow,
brilliance again reborn,
the sapling, now stable oak,
strength against the storms ahead.

And the storms themselves,
initiating fear into one's soul,
charged with the very essence,
of the creation of life.

And dawn does rise
offering the lingering scent,
reminders of a storm
quietly fading from memory.

Dare you doubt
that when time has
swept the seasons course
that spring birds will sing in garden anew?

We are but nature's gift,
and if not my bed you warm this night,
hold tears for sorrows that are true,
for it is but a season that again I will return to you.

~SAS~