Letting Go

Imagine a man standing under Sycamore trees

Near a slow moving stream.

Imagine behind him young mothers push strollers.

.

It is Autumn. Wind rustles the aging yellow leaves flutter.

He has been here many times before.

He is watching turtles slip from a fallen tree into the stream.

.

Imagine a few leaves twist upward and fall. The trees are letting go.

I remember letting go of my father’s hand running to a stream we were about to fish.

I remember him letting go laughing carrying long thin rods.

.

Imagine small ducks drift across the shimmering water

And the leaves letting go of air and color surrender to the stream.

Small fish swim in the water feeding.

.

I imagine my wife behind the man pulling her sweater over her shoulders.

Maybe life is one long lesson in letting go.

Too soon, I will have to let go of all of this.

.

Imagine letting go of the man, the stream, the park,

All disappearing into the golden light pushing up through the Sycamore trees.

Imagine the light disappearing.