Yet again, the tree
by my house has grown old.
Autumn leaves fall,
helpless and soundless,
undisturbs the slumbers
of the ground beneath.
The tree stands in solitude.
no shelter of its own,
no shoulders to lean on,
braves alone winter’s cold.
Whispering winds
singing lullabies,
rock the leaves to sleep
in its cradle beneath.
Patient and unwearied,
ready to break free
from the shackles of time,
they await the moment.
They await…
© Tenzin Jigdal