Silver crown
 

It falls like a flurry in the autumn night

Upon the naked brown trees

A sparkle here and there

Decorating the dark landscape

Its color white, not gray

Wizened ancestors honored at its arrival

It will not be plucked

Or wished away

Regretted 

Or flown to a warmer clime

Shrouded in a darker hue

Or fretted about in shame

As winter approaches

The layer grows thick

White mantle of age

Flowing around the mind

Its beauty forgotten

By some, but not all

I will not send them away

These wisps of white

In the autumn of life

I will not waste a second

Changing them back

And I do not judge

Those who choose to change back

That is their choice, and it’s fine

But not mine

I have earned every single one

And wear them proudly

As a silver crown of honor

As an elder of my tribe

And one who gratefully accepts

That the gift of long life

Far surpasses the alternative