Fall Forest Path

As midnight passed into morning, I watched the news last night. It was like a major league baseball game where the score kept changing and that led into extra innings.

Whose team would win? Until finally the last play and home run happened, and the final score was tallied.

Well I was a little drowsy from last night, and decided a walk in the woods was the best thing for me.

The cool air, bright autumn colors filtering sunshine brought back to nature. It’s an always welcoming place, always changing with the seasons.

fall path scattered with leaves

fall path scattered with leaves

I wanted to share a fall poem with you, a poetic walk along a forest path. Enjoy the autumn.

    By Edward Hirsch

    Fall, falling, fallen. That’s the way the season
    Changes its tense in the long-haired maples
    That dot the road; the veiny hand-shaped leaves
    Redden on their branches in a fiery competition
    With the final remaining cardinals and then
    Begin to sidle and float through the air, at last
    Settling into colorful layers carpeting the ground.

    At twilight the light, too, is layered in the trees
    In a season of odd, dusky congruences—a scarlet tanager
    And the odor of burning leaves, a golden retriever
    Loping down the center of a wide street and the sun
    Setting behind smoke-filled trees in the distance,
    A gap opening up in the treetops and a bruised cloud
    Blamelessly filling the space with purples.

    Everything changes and moves in the split second between summer’s
    Sprawling past and winter’s hard revision, one moment
    Pulling out of the station according to schedule,
    Another moment arriving on the next platform. It
    Happens almost like clockwork: the leaves drift away
    From their branches and gather slowly at our feet,
    Sliding over our ankles, and the season begins moving
    Around us even as its colorful weather moves us,
    Even as it pulls us into its dusty, twilit pockets.

    And every year there is a brief, startling moment
    When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
    Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
    Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
    It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
    It is the changing light of fall falling on us.

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