I Am Not Dead

Maybe I'm on my way
Maybe I'm the grey embedded
In the gold
The winds blow through
My leaves that lived
In my tandem
Scooped by

Heaven's inhale

I'm moving into dormancy
The winter shut down

I miss the bristle
The green stubble
That feeds me the sun
I even like the dregs
I close my eyes
I dream of our time

For a time
I listen to the rain drops

I cry the loss
I meld into the ethereal

Unconscious sleep
I dream of what we were
I promise not to forget
Green surges even as I dream