When the last of Michigan’s autumn leaves fall, the trees become sticks in the sky. This year, I’m seeing something different in their bare branches: structure, growth, and a reminder that knowledge means little until we put it into practice.
When the life and routines that worked yesterday no longer fit today, how do we grow again? A reflection on one-word resolutions, midlife change, agency, discernment, and learning to reorient.
What you did was one loss. What you never did was another. A poem about betrayal, absence, reciprocity, and the clarity of finally protecting what is present.
