foot pritnts

walking along in a slight powder of snow
i look behind and notice no foot prints
is it the brisk cold wind that has blown
away my steps or is it that i may not 
be leaving my foot prints behind?

will my existence in this short sojourn
be remembered let alone noticed or will
the million tiny breaths i've taken, the million
words  i've spoken or written, the many hands
i've touched, will anyone recall that i was here? 

if nothing else, my hope and wish is that
someone will reflect upon my sharing of
the tiniest, if not insignificant, moments
spent sharing tears and joys, my giving of
the pieces of my heart, the love

Nature's transition

yellow and russet leaves blanket the still verdant blades of grass
they dance with a shimmy and sparkle from the dew as the morning
sun rises now farther away than in a Summer's day

the large stoma and petals once yellow now a dark brown lay down at
a once vibrant sunflower's feet to recycle with nutrimental loam not to die but to garner Winter's sleep

soon a cold northern Winter wind shall blow and all will be covered
with a blanket of snow whilst houses align in the dawning of a spewing from chimneys a dark grey and white smoke