Raindrops settle on Aspen leaves, A breeze may send them to earth, The leaf soon becoming bronze, It's job as a shelf finite. While high up on mountain peak, Snow already forms, Relentless in its pursuit, To hasten autumn days. While summer clings, Like drops on an Aspen leaf.
Our sorrows and wounds are healed only when we touch them with compassion - Buddha
At times we may be merely hanging on, while at others we eagerly await the opportunity to spring forth.