The trees have let go.
And so should I. 
There’s no time to hold on
to dry dead things.
Not now, when the air is colder
when the light burns shorter.

My pace needs to quicken
My pulse needs to rise. 
I need to let go like the trees
If I’m going to get through the winter;
if I’m going to spring to life
after the fall.

Image credit: Kathleen Cross
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