Shadows in the Wind

The crispness in each breath
announces the time of year.
I exhale, and it seems that the leaves turn.

All of the possibilities of spring
pull the leaves down to the ground,
and chance comes into play where each will land.

In the end, the earth is nourished,
time has continued on,
and we are blessed, with the yield of the harvest for that year.

While surrounded by our pleasures,
we find ourselves hovering nearer the hearth,
and bundling-up to erase the solstice chill;

and through the warmth, and light of our existence
our hearts are reminded to continue dreaming,
and to not waste energy trying to keep regrets alive.

For those sorrows are turning as did the leaves,
and soon will be as mulch beneath our feet.
Reducing them until they are but shadows in the wind.