Not as a storm, whipping up a violent spiral of man-made debris,
Just old bits of undergrowth beginning to shake themselves free.
Not dragged around by an unruly wind, untameable force,
But as you direct the gusts, so you guide my course,
My seasons, my leaves now falling not only green then brown,
But new waves of colour floating slowly down,
Gathering up hidden family as they drift about
The whole spectrum of shades together speaking out
By its silent covering of all that went before
Wrapping up unshakeable rock with a somehow sturdier floor.
Some young flower struggling as unexpected rain lashes,
In the now raging winds, a vulnerable branch thrashes.
But roots as iron girders hold up the very ground,
Unfazed, untouched, yet so intimately winding round.
Threefold life source of ancient knot ties made,
Beauty, strength, and offering entwined in eternal braid,
Sustaining all that grows and regenerates above.
Securing safety through the chaos, in untameable love.