By Ron Shapiro
How the day speeds by in this chilly room.
Life slows outside in November; no one,
It seems, walks in the late afternoon when
Now the sun sets earlier, twilight’s long shadows
Escaping above rooftops into the treetops.
Now a single leaf or two, no more, dangles,
Twisting and turning with every windy whisper.
How it then comes tumbling down
Like an exotic Cirque du Soleil acrobat
Falling from the heavens to the earth
Without even a net.
We could learn so much
From observing nature:
How to live,
How to die gracefully and effortlessly.
How to share
Whatever beauty exists inside of us
With anyone we meet.
For a tree never judges who walks by
Or who sits beneath its summer canopy
Or barren branches in autumn.
This tree does not know of
Racism, injustice, poverty.
Rather it only serves as a guide
Into understanding acceptance and tolerance.
Knowledge needed to get by these days.
If only everyone took the time
To walk among the trees,
Peace might be closer than we think.
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Ron Shapiro holds a B.A. from the University of Delaware and an M.A. in the Teaching of Writing from Northeastern University. An award winning retired FCPS English and Creative Writing teacher with over 40 years of classroom experience and a Fellow of the Pennsylvania and Northern Virginia Writing Projects, he now mentors students with college essays as well as teaches Memoir Writing at OLLI through George Mason University. In 2011, he received Cornell University’s Outstanding Teacher Award. He has published writings in The Whole Word
Catalogue, More Strategies for Teaching Writing, NoVa Bards 2022, NoVa Bards 2023, Gatherings, Poets of the Promise, Poetry X Hunger as well as two chapbooks: Sacred Spaces and Wonderings.