As the last vestiges of autumn give way to winter’s chill, I am left clinging to the vine
All the foot soldiers that have gone before, twisting in their death throes as they floated to the unforgiving ground below
Did any of our ilk survive the season’s change of bygone years
Is it worth the fight or should brave surrender be my lot

The glorious livery of spring through summer has long since gone; In its stead are hues of stockyard brown
Fierce winds that blow, once billowed, now gusting, bending, creaking and pulling at the “Host of Life”
She has seen the years pass by with stoicism of admirable kind
I am proud to call her Mother and cling to her as life itself

Is spring so rewarding that memory is enough to endure
How else would she renew her spirit time and again, lest survival of one would suffice
Just one of her brood, to comfort her through the dark days of winter
It was worth every effort to witness renewal of life, as I float twisting and turning to join my brothers below