Bare

last night the winds tore
yellow red and purple

leaves from their fragile
autumn moorings

skeleton trees greet a cold
dawn, more placid now
after the big shake down

waving stick arms, as if
celebrating their bare
freedoms.

I’m remembering stories
parents whisper to each other
(never to their children) of weeping
and dancing as their last child
drives away

we hold close
to our chests, like a winning card
no one needs see, a new
lightness of being

till it’s time to show an open hand
to walk bare and spry

headlong
into our own
stripping winds.

Poem by Priya Huffman, from ‘of Bone and Breath‘ – priyahuffman.com
Featured image by Steve Russell – steverussellphotos.com
More articles and poems by this author on Osho News