I’m packing my bags
Carrying them to the street
And standing between.
Watching first snowfall
Softly saying change coming:
Season of love’s light.
Wind creaking windows,
Sun playing in bending branch –
Change blowing in fast.
Falling back, yet life
Speeds ahead while the blind curves
Blur in happy turns.
Waiting to inhale.
Hours and days tick slowly;
Corner bending sight.
Awake, equinox
Pondering the slow swiftness
Of change possibly
Storm on angel’s wings
Excited trepidation
Oh, so welcome, change