A Tree Without Leaves

winter is here -
as the cold wind blows,
I let go of my leaves
one by one, or in droves;
I've bared myself
for the world to see,
my sterile beauty,
what it takes to be me;
branches that twist
and turn, in a tangle,
life has been good,
because of the mangle;
a tree without leaves -
I stand alive and sure,
for I trust the seasons,
that sustain my source.

Shadow play

disoriented,
misty-eyed,
lost,
distraught -
shadow plays
of a tireless ego;
in the incessant play
of light and dark
is the source
of all that is -
the only GPS
that helps me
find my way home;
when I listen
to the silent whispers
of my heart,
I can sit back and watch
the shadows
come to life
and dance
with abandon,
scripting a new story
of light and dark.