Poetry Friday

Dispute

Autumn thinks of itself
as the season of leaf belief.
"Just look! Isn't it obvious?"

Spring, full of hope and growth,
begs to differ;
and in full green glory,
Summer insists otherwise.

But Winter,
grizzled sage,
argues that leaf belief
comes only
when the limbs are bare
and the ground is cold --

when all that exists
is the empty open space
that waits for what is yet to come.

And who knows
but that he's right.