the reluctance of the forest
On the car ride to school she asked if today was Fall. I thought about this. Was it? Yes, today is the first day of fall, I told her. It’s finally arrived.
But in the woods, there’s still so much green. I feel the tug and pull of the forest. The trees groan as leaves drop from their branches. I’m surrounded by reluctance: branches holding tight to leaves, moss clinging to rocks, ferns refusing to yellow. But there’s a fervor among the forest. To move on. To see what this next season holds. Vibrant colors of golds, oranges, yellows, reds. The browning of grasses. The slowing down of streams.
Along the trail are fallen leaves, some various shades of autumn and some with the vibrant green of summer. Did they fall on their own accord? Or were they coerced into leaving their branches by a more powerful force?
I understand how the forest feels. The constant tug and pull. This resistance to let go of what once was and the eagerness to move on to the new. We don’t always get to control how each moment happens. The seasons change with or without our permission. The best we can hope for is a gentle transition from what once was to what will now.