French la Vie

Walking home along a familiar path, the light was thinning.
I looked up at the branches—
naked now, strong arms at rest,
the leaves long shed after guarding us from the heat of summer.

What once slowed the sun’s rays had gracefully fallen,
letting go of its lush foliage,
allowing thin light to slip through the winter sky,
touch the ground,
and soften the cold.

The seasons explain themselves
if we have lived long enough to notice.
We pass through them the same way—
holding, releasing,
standing bare when needed.

There is grace in letting it be.