Fall on the Horizon



In the forest

The air is made of sun baked leaf shadow and earth perfume

Leaves crunch and crackle underfoot

And The sky is white hot brass above the canopy

Inhale

Softly, slowly

Draw the forest in

Blackberries baking in the sun

The mulch of dry leaves

The pungent body odor of must and moss and loam

Ribbons of shadow fall through the trees

Ruffled with each step

Overhead the canopy thickens

Above a clearing of diffuse light

Cool and still

Walk through it with reverence as if it were water

Mindful of the ripples each movement makes

To the base of an ancient maple

Hear its deep reverberant om

Knitting knitting

The stitches that hold life apart

Knitting knitting

The spacious web into which we unfold

Sit within the embrace of this ancient making

To listen

Feel the potent and unhurried letting go

The sigh

The relief

The happy acquiescence

Of fall on the horizon

This is the teaching of the forest

The necessity and beauty of process

Each step is where we are

Takes us to where we need to be

To the great remembering

That we are always home


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