The Cycling of the East

The damp, fallen leaves

create a wet, slippery muck,

all giving off a bold, fragrant reminder

to take in the browns

yellows

oranges

and reds,

the colors that remind us

to gather round our tables and

taste the colors of living.

And we cover ourselves

when the cold comes,

cocooning into reflection,

We speak less,

and reflect more,

allowing insight to seep

into the crevices of

mind, bones, and sight,

opening the door

to perspective

on loss and redemption.

Rebirth follows

with the dripping of melted ice

and

with the first sprigs of bloom,

an energy arises,

that can be seen

in eyes that grow greener

when the sun casts light

and disinfects

the ugly, viral sicknesses

that came before —

that of our bodies and

of our society.

And then the sun

warms deeply — in and out —

while skin browns,

shoes come off,

and grass is felt in between the toes.

The animals frolic and pant

and we all exhale hot breath

of oxygen that replenishes and brings forth

a collective living

as we bath in the warm beaches

of comfort.

This is the cycling of the East,

one that those of the sun

fail to experience —

a cycling of

mood, body, mind,

and anima —

from a felt environment

to a hibernation

to a rebuilding

to a bodily pleasure —

a constant renewal that reminds us

that our evolution of transformation

has no beginning, no end,

and possesses a circular circumference

with no significance

other than to give place

for our continuous movement

through existence.