changes - a poem

the real ones are almost imperceptible
in their dawning, suddenly things just are new,

I suppose there are those who have slowed
enough from what remains dull, manifest,

they see them coming and know when
to act with them, alongside them, in them,

it is they who blossom in the bud in Spring,
grow in the flower in Summer, know when to die
in the Winter, now fodder, unalone, unafraid, changing