Leaves debate the sunlight
with logic born of rain;
a squirrel steals conclusions
and buries them again
The bench becomes a pulpit
the air a gentle creed;
the only truth worth knowing
is kindness turned to deed
I quote the wind’s soft thesis
that change itself is wise;
to lose is not to suffer
but learn to recognize
When twilight grades the lecture
and dusk dismisses doubt—
the mind bows down to wonder
the heart signs itself out