Uphill idealist

This yellow leaf,  once was green with promise. It was connected, nourished, and alive. Hints of the fall were all around: Crisp evenings, rushing winds, and shorter days. But this yellow leaf fell in silence.  There was no sound as she surrendered to the swirling water. Her story was not collected, heaped up or leaped into. She twirled,  calmly, quietly and silently; so as not to cause a stir on the surface. But the space she left behind was deep, wide, and shouted of her absence. Yellow leaf had curly raven hair, ice blue eyes, fair skin and freckles - that showed themselves when you stood close. Silence should not claim your life. So today, I shared the story of your death and the dream of our goodbye  that gave me hope to keep on living. Yellow leaf,  no more will you float in silence. You should dance on the wind,  swirl dramatically into your favorite wood, and be swept up over and over again:  for leaping,  laughter...

There is a passage lush with moss,damp from morning dew that calls me to step across the threshold into something new. The things I've known catch on my sleeves and pant legs like prickers on already harvested black berry bushes. They pull, scratch, and demand I stay past the harvest; to only see glimpses of cool green just beyond gate. I've peeked over the wall to that garden, and it looks like a place I might want to call home; if only there was time to make it just that - home. It's no mistake that the grass is sometimes greener. I've seen that cool, restful plot and laid my hope in that space that separates me from what is and what is yet to be. The gate is unlocked, yet I keep thinking I'm left outside of this garden. Moving heart-heavy feet across the green to the greener can take some effort.  Just beyond that threshold is all the new, the in-progress, and not quite comfortable yet.  Inhale. Exhale.  Lift a left foot, then the right. Step by step, g ...