I hear the whisp’ring of the leaves
Rustling and murmuring to the breeze
As it ruffles their lacy branches.
The trees show no resistance
They bend and sway and
Dance in the arms of the wind.
I, too, have learned to bend and
Sway, and to do what I must to
Survive this brave new world, but
Sometimes when my heart is weary
And wond’ring what the future
Holds, I allow myself, just for a
Moment, to pause and remember
That day in September …