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Winter From Below
by Jason Sturner Oak leaves tremble in the wind, drip with a recent rain. They turn orange and fall to know winter from below. I know winter from above. My place at the window, coffee in hand as thoughts rise and take shape. I’ve seen a million leaves shine and die. Seen them shake in storms and fall from crowns. From this I have gathered insight: At any given moment, a man trembles, a child shines. Women bend in storms. They’ll all go orange inside to know winter from below. I too will fade: tremble with a lifetime of storms as I float leaf-like into the hands of winter. |
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