Planted

Leaves of thoughts

falling from the mind’s tree

where winter comes unto the heart,

still hold autumn’s hopes

in their fading face,

for we know life descends,

but also rises,

so in the stillness

of icy dawns in doubt,

the withered dreams and brittle joys

can become a compost

to plant tomorrow

as a thawing vision

and by its light

a seedling sprouts

into an oak.