The Old Ones

When Autumn comes I rest awhile
to watch the leaves with wistful smiles
the wind blows soft to lift them free...

as they let go of mother tree

They swirl & twirl through wisps of air
then drift or spin without a care
In flowing sweeps they tease & please
then fall to Earth with grace and ease

They rest like blankets on the ground
or pile on grasses all around
but when the snow of winter comes
they turn to compost, every one

They mime the fate of aging ones
That frolic free 'til life is done
with silver hair and wrinkled face
Embracing life with truth and grace

For things aren't that important now
that once showed worry on the brow
the hands of time have set them free
to bask in cherished memories

And when they rock or sit a spell
their wisdom pours with tales to tell
As bony fingers point the way
to places they once loved or played

With swiftness gone & movements slow
they take the time to ebb and flow
They nap in cushioned garden chairs
or dance through dreams without a care

These aging ones, these precious Crones
Will venture on to lands unknown
And like the leaves in Autumn time
They're letting go in peace sublime...

~ Silverwitch ~