I live Between Seasons

Sometimes, I look at a tree when its green crown is gone
And I wonder if it feels empty.
That hollow phase when you’re in between worlds and seasons.
Does it feel like its emerald jewels will never come back to him again?
Does it cry and pray that it’ll feel whole once again?
I can’t help but look at it now and feel we’re in the same boat.
I, too, feel empty, as if some part of me is missing, as if I left it somewhere
I, too, feel like I’m not whole anymore
At least the tree has the company of birds
And it is embraced by the wind
On some lucky days, it even is touched by the sun
Its thirst calmed by the rain
And that’s because the mother never leaves her children alone
She’s always there
Taking care that we go through all the processes needed for our healing
So why should I be the exception to that?
I really am not
I know she’s with me always
Nourishing me with water, food for the soul and body
She bathes me in sunlight
And I feel like a small child again and again as she does that
How can I ever think
We are all alone