What the trees teach me in September.

A blackbird sings.

Notes

tumble

clear

over

sweet sprigs of hay.

Leaves

exchange

the known

for

the unknown,

as trees

humbly

let go of life.

Trusting.

And

I am here,

a life

made of seasons.

A solitary

witness to

the earth’s

worship.

And it is

good.

— What the trees teach me in September.

© Liezel Graham 2018.

Published by

Liezel Graham

Wife. Mum. Lover of words. Lover of the Word. Writer of stories. I drink too much coffee and dream improbably big dreams. The quintessentially weird kid, all grown up and (still) finding refuge in books and words.

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