There is death below my feet as I walk that path for the first time since fall

The grey earth, the weathered wood, the leaves torn

As I walk I consider how if left undisturbed, this swill become the nutrients for the next phase

The trees never cry out as their leaves are taken, one by one, leaving them vulnerable and bare

They continue, deeply rooted, knowing that this is all a part of the process

The trees stand together at various stages of death and life

Unshaken

No fear

For they know they are still very much alive