Category: Autumn 2024

The woods was still dark, its trees bare,
the previous night’s rain having washed
to the ground the bits of what had remained.
The revelry was over, the morning sun
only now rising on the sleeping scene.

Except for her scarlet song rolling
down the hillside through the night’s debris,
I might have missed her altogether,
there, at the crest of the hill, her leaves alone
shining red in the morning light. She sang
not to call attention to herself, but as one
lost in a reverie, or uttering a last, personal
benediction over all that she had witnessed here
since spring, humbled, perhaps, at the realization
that she got to be the final witness of it all.
Imagine that. The last one.

They don’t settle down right away.
Like children tucked into bed
after an exciting day, the trees
take some time to sink into silence.
First, they must whisper stories
to each other, to giggle and tease.
They must wiggle a bit and ease
themselves into just the right
position before the winter dreams
will come, floating in like clouds
on a snowy evening. But then,
what silence! And beneath it,
what stupendous dreams they dream

Look. Let your eyes find the poems.
A line here, a phrase there,
a surprise of gracefulness.
Be alert for the pattern, for the flow.
Leaves on a creek bed,
reflections on still waters,
a flight of swallows
against a dappled sky.
Love notes are everywhere.
Find them.

Surrender any notions of your own.
Instead, trust in the goodness of the Yes
unerringly to lead you. When it whispers,
be willing to follow its nudges, turning
when it says to turn, continuing on
when it says to keep on. Do not worry
that you will lose your way. That which
leads you to its treasures will
lead you safely home.

If you keep faith and follow
the whisperings of your heart,
‘though the day be dark
and swept with rain,
a moment will come
when the skies will open
and the Yes pour down
its light.

I give you the world as a mirror of your heart.
See in it what you will: The straight
or the crooked, the mountain or the valley,
fullness, or that which is barren, the sunlight
or the clouds. I give it all to you,
and beneath it, I sing my constant song.
Be at peace, child. You are known,
in all your moods and choosings,
and all that you are is loved.

Don’t let these warm days fool you.
Do you not see that the sycamores
have given their all? That the gold
of the maples has fallen? In the woods
the squirrels are busily burying nuts
and growing thick fur. Treat this
spell of comfort as a grace, given
you to gather memories of color
and mild air, of flowing waters
where leaves float like boats
and ducks paddle freely
through a still-liquid world.
Take it as a kindness, given
by the Yes, as a treasure for you
to hold in your heart for warmth
when the winds blow cold.

October, having hid a few
of her favorite costumes
in the hollow’s woods,
brought them out
as her final treat, a gift
for all who happened
down a certain country road.
Then, laughing in pleasure
at their delight, she slid into
the shadows of the surrounding
hills, and disappeared.

Now is the time, oh little ones,
to wrap your summer in dreams,
to take your billowing days
and starlit nights, the play
of swallowtails and damselflies,
the woodlands’ whispering songs,
and fold them in your feathers
as your spirits fly away
to the land where memories
are spun into songs that sing
the Yes ‘til spring’s morning.

Come walk this autumn path with me.
Come gather its color and breathe its perfume
before it fades away. Such magic is rare;
it cannot hold. It lasts for only one day
and then it’s gone. Come, walk with me.
Come watch the last golden leaf-coins fall
across our path. Tuck the smooth, red leather
of the oak into your pocket to spend
on dreams. Listen to the secrets
whispered on the wind as it carries
these bright bits of the season away.
Come walk with me and gather this treasure
for keeping in memory’s store.