Autumn Walk--Remembering a Love
A leaf mimicking a butterfly,
A butterfly teasing the birds.
Age, old trees letting go
of what doesn’t work for them anymore.
Freedom to fly, and crumble to the ground,
When you can’t hold on at the end of your rope.
Tie a knot, find a way, or so they say,
Or let go and let God.
The creator drew the lines
And the edges where space meets time.
Time flies, and flees, gone before her time,
But what was, when was her time?
What matters is what was lived between those two dates,
The dash in between.
Fly away, little butterfly, your days are numbered,
But your colors, once brilliant,
And leave this world behind. Fly.
Dear friends, I wrote this poem at the passing of Barbara Mead, a colleague who worked at my university for 55 years. I am also remembering family members who passed these last few years. On this weekend of All Saints, please feel free to remember a loved one below. God bless.