Calling down falling

I am slowly falling,
trying to hang on,
to grab the branches
of the trees that I had planted
in the white winter snow.
I tripped while I gathered rosebuds
in the autumn mist.
And still I am falling.

There you are, calling,
trying to let go,
to be free of the vines
that had held you down
in the white winter snow.
You threw away rosebuds
in the warm summer sun.
And still you are calling.

And while I am falling
past your calling,
past rosebuds and trees
in the white winter snow,
I turn my mind until it sees
another seed it needs to grow.