As the last vestiges of autumn give way to winter's chill, I am left clinging to the vine.
All the foot soldiers that have gone before, twisting in their death throes as they floated to the unforgiving ground below.
Did any of our ilk survive the seasons change of bygone years? Is it worth the fight or should brave surrender be my lot.
The glorious livery of of spring through summer has long since gone; In its stead are hues of stockyard brown!
Fierce winds that blow! Once billowed, now gusting,bending, creaking and pulling at the "Host of Life".
She has seen the years pass by with stoicism of admirable kind.
I am proud to call her Mother and cling to her as life itself.
Is spring so rewarding that memory is enough to endure?
How else would she renew her spirit time and again, lest survival of one would suffice?
Just one of her brood, to comfort her through the dark days of winter.
It was worth every effort to witness renewal of life, as I float twisting and turning to join my brothers below.