Predictable

Predictable

I feel such a bright energy flowing,

zipping through my veins.

I can’t wait to move with it,

to uproot myself,

to be transplanted and reborn,

to recreate myself

at the time when all of nature

is recreating itself and starting afresh.

I will be reborn too in another place.

I’ve done it before and felt the new buds open,

bursting and shooting into a new life.

I’ve felt the excitement of the new spaces,

embraced the interest in the new peoples’ faces.

And then…

I’ve opened up my blowsy petals and

let my heart show through

pulsing,

exuberant,

ready

to turn towards the summer sun,

not believing it will destroy

my bloom,

make my petals fade and fall

when the shock of the new wears off

and the fresh green shoots start to brown,

and prepare for the season of wrinkles,

which always follows,

as my life folds out as before.

Soon I’ll be getting ready

for the ice of winter

in this new place.

A new place, but

with the same person in it.

To change where I am is the easy part.

To change who I am is difficult, hardly possible.

But without this change,

nothing will change,

except that summer will have gone,

winter will surely follow fall

and spring will be a long way away.

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