November Trees

November trees bare truth.

They have lost their florescent leaves to the breeze of life,

and still they stand tall

in their brittle bones and naked skin.

Yet we still think they are beautiful.

They become easier to climb.

Easier to feel.

Easier to see through.

Their roots reach deeper since there is nothing to pull their energy

in the opposite direction.

They let go to hold on.

And they accept the broken branches as a way of healing.



And we...

we wilt under blankets and scarves.

Bury our faces in cups of cocoa and cookies.

Reach to our comforts to temporarily heal.

Hold tighter to memories as to never let go.

We become canyons and Everests

and harder to climb.

We become swaddled in sweaters

and harder to feel,

Windows fogged with fake smiles

and mindless conversation.

We pull up our roots,

because we are losing our limbs,

thinking it will ease the pain

but it only makes us stagger more.



So open your eyes with me

and let the trees remain standing.

Witness their endurance of the changing season

and let it inspire your own progression.

Run outside with me,

in all of your nakedness,

because it is so beautiful out here

among the November trees.