lost and found

faces change as much as seasons, 

when rooted connections reverse course

and a turn of leaf floats forth, twisting in time, seconds, minutes and wondering eyes

each blink flips down to over, to a side burdened with wet soil...decay, toil

pulsing through veins, once living and wavering through breeze

into stem, into branch

anchoring to tree

threading through borders of bark

devoured by sky yet nourished by groundwater as it searches

barricades exist

so what.....flow, vibe, pulse 

begin your own rhythm...embody what you're told impossible

frail from weary seasons of these deeper hours weakens the body and stretches the soul eyes at will and at first and at long stare strings----brings together strength and the 'to come next'

bring your mind back to root.......and become........the force of next