Transitions, like growth spurts
bring with them awkward
uncertainties —
Teeth too large to fit in
mouths too small,
Heads sitting higher
as we find ourselves
in allocations unfamiliar,
terrain unknown —
The in-between places
less like autumn and
more like adolescence.
But like a season
transitions will transcend
and we wake
full-frontal versions
of our own truth,
Bearing witness
To our dawn—
Do not grow weary
in the good work
of your becoming.