The Poetry of Decay: Learning from Fallen Leaves and Scattered Seeds

There is a lightening that comes with the release of autumn into winter. The trees let go, and the color drains from the fields. The air sharpens into crisp and arid. Although I always ache to see the bright leaves fade, I also feel something inside me reset. It feels like a soft exhale after months of fullness or a stillness making space for daydreams.

I’ve come to love the look and feel of early winter in the late afternoon light. The world seems to sparkle in monochrome. Without the distraction of color, everything is texture! Dry grasses whisper in the breeze. Seedpods take centerstage when backlit by the sun. When I brave the cool air to explore a meadow this time of year, I am reminded that there is beauty in every stage, even the fading ones.

Nature never wastes. Every fallen leaf, every decaying petal and every seed scattered in the wind all are part of a quiet cycle of return. What looks like an ending is simply transformation. The earth has known this truth forever, and I find comfort in knowing how this rhythm mirrors our own. We are not separate from the soil or the trees. We, too, are part of that cycle and will return to the earth.

So as the season turns, I try to lean into the poetry of decay. To notice the small, luminous things. the papery curl of a milkweed pod, the way the light catches on frost, the silence of the woods preparing for sleep. These quiet moments teach me that beauty isn’t only in the blooming, but also in the falling away.

A gentle practice

Next time you walk outdoors, pause to notice what’s breaking down. Gather a few fallen leaves or seedpods for your coffee table or sketchbook. Let them remind you that letting go is part of life and the creative process and that every ending, like winter itself, holds the promise of renewal.