Falling Leaf

Don't you imagine the leaves dream now
     how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
     nothingness of the air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don't you think
     the trees, especially those with
mossy hollows, are beginning to look for

the birds that will come -- six, a dozen, -- to sleep
     inside their bodies? And don't you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
     the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
     stiffens and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
     its long blue shadows. The wind wags
its many tails. And in the evening
     the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.


Song for Autumn, by Mary Oliver


Now that the bugs are gone its nice to walk down the Hio again. Being able to stroll though the woods without having to drive anywhere is something I'm very thankful for. I need to take advantage of this after work more often, before the days grow much shorter.