What Motion Do We Make? (1st draft)

Outside my window lies
a world beyond the kitchen sink
so quiet like a frame
and painted in the tame movements of
Winter's approach.

The world yawns in daze
as days pass beneath sun's rays
and I long to crawl like the
Bear and wrap warm earth about me tight.

If winter were just one night!

If my being were the limit of
success and the definition of solidarity.

No, I am no monster with sharpened claws or fangs.

But like the leaves I long to fall within nature's arms and rest.

Do trees fall for less than this?

Am I bound to always wander,
unattached from closest kin?

Oh Nature, how she wanders
also with the world,
a movement always turning.

We are but mortals ever moving
and we alter so,
like brushes in the wind.

Some day the dawn breaks
deep within us all
and we too return to Nature's arms
like bright leaves or falling stars.

All must motion forth to rest.