Only the orange wilted
I myself was ok
And so too the crow
Only the moon waned
To gift a giant sun
With welcome winter warmth
Listen then to the stories
About this quiet phase of life
Going from place to page
Not knowing, nor being shown
Not owning, and not being owned
This season, nor next neither
The gull and the magpie
Are out walking, or should I say strutting
The lady with the stick, she strides on
I am here
I sure am no longer falling
As the walkers in the walking group walk on
