The approaching storm.
I float as a leaf;
wind blowing will not harm.
Moving closer,
all is frozen. Serene. Still.
As a leaf,
gently touching the ground,
wind may blow,
rain may come,
snow may fall.
But as a leaf,
I am protected,
as a leaf I am resurrected.
A touch closer,
still no fear. No anxiety. No turmoil.
Just the passing of the storm.
A storm that brings the sun,
a sun which produces leaves;
leaves that blow flexibly,
even in a storm.