Green Leaves

I, unlock the latches
and open the window
sticking my head out
reaching for the sun.
The leaves,
once green,
turn brown and burnt.
Once infected, now distorted,
wilted, crumpled,
fallen, dead.
But, they still rustle,
dance, and stir
in the day and night,
with each wind that blows,
carrying them away,
emitting fresh air
that permeates
this stifled soul.
A whiff of cedar
wafts by me
almost cosmic.
I need the rush
while I wait
for a warm, wet spring
with green leaves.

Bright Birth, Dark Death

When the sun rises
it illuminates the world,
combating the darkness,
the once familiar cloak of comfort.
The infant yawns, stretches,
and allows small doses of sunlight
to enter the slits between her eye lids.

And when the sun sets,
it shades the world,
granting permission to the living
to rest, to sleep.
The elderly woman yawns, closes her eyes,
and allows the darkness to engulf her.
Eyes closed, she can still see the light.