Thoughts

Thoughts, 
floating like leaves
to an autumn yard
dance their patterns upon my mind.

An uncaring wind
sweeps them away
as soon as they land
making their impact brief 
and their destination unknown.

A path, cleared for winter
hosts blanketed silence.  

Thoughts, prance along,

staying ahead of their destiny, for a time.

The seasons of our mind 

 resist each other.

 Where do the thoughts go?

Can spring resurrect them?
Are they the same thoughts 
lying buried all winter?
Will summer provide any hope?

Will vigilance make a difference?  

Are thoughts accruing somewhere 
in the mind's seasons,

awaiting presentation?

How deep can one look?
Do thoughts disappear, 
or hibernate

 like grizzly bears?

An earth embraces change
and a mind does the same.
Maybe this is 
 a return and remembrance 

of something, 
never really lost, at all.

The wind blows softly, 
the leaves fall,
winter sets in, 
and soon spring buffets all about.

Summer's sun shines 
its rays 
into the corners and crevices of our minds.
 We see, understand and exhale
as the rhythms bound deeply into our being.

_______________________________________________

When I was in college and studying liberal arts, I began to wonder where thoughts originated.

It has been a question that has nagged me for years.  Of course, I know they come from our individual brains, but the process of thought origination has always intrigued me.

If I were returning to college, I might pick linguistics as a course of study.  

But, in the meantime, I think poetry has filled a void for me, always wondering about language. 

The mysteriousness of language and the ease of poetry not having to explain things is what draws me.  I think of landscapes often and how words play upon them.

Here's to nature being a companion on this journey,

Strolling Ursula