Hello there. Would you like to take a walk with me?
I know a path that leads through the woods; it's not far from here.
The fog is hanging low today, and the tops of the trees are skimming the sky.
I love the autumn.
The gentle carpets of leaves, quietly decomposing.
Slowly they're humbled into leaf-shaped doilies, nothing left but the sinew,
a lacy reminder of the damp, green unfurling of spring,
the broad shade and gentle rustlings of summer.
The fruits of the fall have fallen.
A beautiful bounty, left strewn for the birds. They too will gather their Thanksgiving feast,
to be eaten before the sharp chill of winter ushers them south, to seek warmer winds.
A breeze sets leaves swirling, and small birds abandon their branches.
Soon I cannot tell leaf from wing- all is browngold and fluttering.
In the fullness of their revelry, they fluttered, chirping and frolicking from bush to bush, and tree to tree, capricious from the very profusion and variety around them.
But some birds don't move at all.
The Heron stands sentry, knee deep in still waters.
He will withstand the winter.
The dove is all the more graceful for her mossy wings.
She will withstand time.
We have walked out and now we return,
following our tracks,
scanning the path for the curve of our boot-heels.
We shall not leave anything behind us but the woods.
love, wren
(where did you wander today?)
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