Category: Autumn Anthems

As many leaves have fallen
as still cling to the trees.
I wander through a world of them,
remembering their first pink whispers
as they peeked from their buds, so shy,
and then how they unfurled so easily
against the spring‘s wide skies. They served
as the canopy of summer, spreading emerald
everywhere, soothing us with their shade,
passing along the secrets of birds and breeze.
And now, here they are, holding the last gold
of autumn even as they sail to the earth
below to return to the Mother, to feed her
with their bodies as their spirits ascend
singing, their mission accomplished,
their purpose fulfilled.

Before our colors fade into winter’s quiet dreams,
let us give you one more sweep of hues
to carry you through the colorless cold.
Tuck our bright flags into the corners of your mind.
Wave them on nights when the wind howls,
when winter pulls its white blankets over your fields.
Let them warm you with their flames and encourage you
when the days seem bleak and endless.
Let them whisper to you that winter
is but a pulling back of the Archer’s bow so that,
come spring, shafts of fresh color may fly,
and joy, renewed, may drench your soul.

You can tell me the how of it all that you want,
explaining the way the light rays bend
around the curviness of earth,
and how their travel through the atmosphere
produces all these colors. It doesn’t change things
or answer the why. There didn’t have to be beauty.
But here it is, glowing, and touching our souls.
Let’s just take it as a gift, a love note from the Yes,
one flowing note in its endless, mysterious song.
Just because.

It matters, I believe, that we remember
these moments of beauty, that we fold
them into our being. And not only the sight
of them and their fragrance and sounds,
but the way they touched a deeper truth
within us. And it is that which is important
for us to recall—the way they sang to us
of the Yes from which they arose, and the way
our hearts sang with them in a mystery surpassing
comprehension and beyond all time.

It’s like this now, like living
in a bowl of golden light.
And all you can do is walk
in wonder, knowing, truly
knowing, what it is to feel
alive and blessed.

I walk the hillside gathering twigs
that I will use as tinder for fires
on cold nights, an annual custom
that I began three decades ago.
The air carries the fragrance
of fallen leaves and coming rain.
For one brief moment, the sun
breaks through the layers of cloud
and I turn to see it kiss the treetops
as they dance, tall and bright,
against the charcoal sky.
I add the moment to my twig bin
along with a fallen gold leaf.
Remind me, I say to it,
the next time that I touch you,
of this warm and shining day
when I saw the sun brushing
the mid-October leaves
and watched them shimmer
in its sudden light.

One of the things that the Great Yes wanted to experience
was being a maple tree whose leaves would turn scarlet in fall.
And so he did. And on one perfect October afternoon
when the sun was warm and a cool breeze was waltzing
through its scarlet leaves, the maple tree danced, and the Yes
sang this wondrous moment down into his very atoms
in perfect and absolute joy.

In case your mind is longing
for ease, in case your heart
is in need of a song, in case
you need to remember
that, in the wider world,
beauty dwells, the Great Yes
placed this love flame
in the midst of the pines
to dance, its crimson
and gold leaves whispering,
“Be at peace, Child.
All is well.”

You show us our greediness, autumn.
We walk through your perfect falling leaves,
through the exquisite textures and colors
of you, grasping the moment so tightly,
wanting it never to end, or at least to slow
so we can take in every detail. And yet
the dance itself is at the heart of the beauty.
And the song can only sing if
we let the music play.

You must love these days,
I say to the ancient maple,
as I stand beneath its spread boughs
gazing in awe at its leaves, orange
and lemon and crimson, dancing
in the sun. How could you not
feel proud and triumphant
to have produced such
a glorious display! How I hope
our human adulations
satisfy and touch your soul.
I hope you feel it. I hope you know.
This is what it’s all for, isn’t it?
These precious days of splendor.
The rest, the shade and whispering songs,
and seeds, and perches, and nests,
were simply gracious gifts that you
bestowed along the way because
your core is made of Yes and love.
And now we get to see it, writ large,
in flaming letters that dance in joy
beneath this autumn sky.