Fall

Words come to me like falling leaves
Released soundlessly by all-knowing branches
Of my brothers: Beech and Oak,
On forever returning gusts
Of the aftersummer winds.

I step as light as the fox at dawn;
One foot in front of the other.
I am carried by the kindness of the forest path,
Winding the way back home
For you and me.

You also love this time of year.
The invisibility of the sacred bond;
We do not speak, but we will see
Twirling leaves, in prancing sunlight,
Returning softly, without regret.

As the woodpecker, small but sturdy
Hammers on his privy twig,
Our eyes roam beyond the horizon:
The pines across the valley are still green and hard –
You and I, we’re home.

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