For the seeds

And for Amos

Is the tree ever ready
To lose its leaves as one season ends
And the wind changes direction?

Its seeds scatter the ground
Feeling the loss of their source
Too soon strewn

With each cold kiss of wintry breath
Branches wave
Remembering a warmer dance

Scripting against cloudened sky
The root’s exquisite story
Of hope carried

"For the seeds" poetry by Roshan James

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