she stands
in quiet solitude
with a silent shudder
in the midst of an unexpected coolness
her leaves begin to fall
slowly at first
then in a bit of a rush
laying out a blanket of poured out life
gnarled and grey
she stands
in a new nakedness
freshly vulnerable
one by one
she drops her branches
incapable of bearing their weight
aching in the open wound of great loss
she stands
no longer able to offer shade
or nourishment
she stands
facing an uncertain horizon
she stands
while entering a sacramental season of waiting
in acceptance of her approaching winter
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