Longing

The trees have shed their leaves in anticipation. 

Naked and vulnerable, and ready to receive.

The birds have flown south, the escapists.

The insects are just gone, the fair-weather friends.

The rabbits and squirrels, teeming around when warm, have retreated.

Ready to rest and recover. And reproduce. 

The sun is out there doing its thing - it doesn't care. 

The earth though, has tilted away from its gaze, fearful and timid.

Or is it boundaries?

It is July and I long for winter.

For the cold that forces you to feel when everything feels numb.

For the stillness outside that quells the noise within.

For the darkness that is comforting in its encompassing embrace. 

Who are the birds, the insects and the rodents in your life?

Where are the trees that need time in the sun and need to shed to receive?

What are you running away from?

What are you protecting yourself from?