I was just sitting in the backyard, smoking what I hoped would be in inspirational cigarette, wondering why the words don't come.  I have one last project, due at noon tomorrow, which I have had all day (indeed, all semester) to work on, and it is still not done.  I have stared at my screen, fiddled around, written a little, and have not finished.  I don't know why.  So I sat outside in this beautiful Fall afternoon, looking at the crisp blue sky with a few meandering white clouds, gazing at the brown leaves on the ground, and the red, orange and yellow ones still clinging to the branches forming a thin canopy over my head.  The air felt so nice, the sunlight so lovely. 

I gazed at those leaves and realized I am just like one of them.  I burn brightly, colorful, joyous, full of dying color and crisp around the edges.  Then I lose my grasp from the anchor above, and fall, swaying back and forth in the light breeze, this way and that.  I feel the wind buffeting me in many directions, up, down, and side to side.  I continue in a free fall, changing as I fall, returning and departing time and again, emotions swelling and collapsing, dancing to and fro in the crisp air, until I glide to the wintry ground, brown and spent, returning to the earth which gave me life.  After a time, I then spring forth anew, green and fresh, full of new possibility and the strength of youth, once again firmly tethered to my supportive branch, secure and bright.

This Winter too will pass, and Spring will come once again.  My life will be renewed.

I wonder why I cannot cry.