On an October Walk in the Woods

Ottava rima with photos

The leaves are turning this October day with reds and orange still a ways to go. Sure hope the wind won’t blow them all away. I go on this short walk. This way I’ll know what nature has in mind and if I may decide to go and view this yearly show. I step into these woods and all is good. These trees are nice to see from where I stood.

The sun is low this autumn afternoon. It shimmers through the yellow waving leaves. Get moving quick. The sun is sinking soon. This color-splashed cathedral still believes in lifting tiny spirits to the moon. This season’s journey from our past still weaves. Here in the forest’s kind embrace, I stand. Upon the fallen leaves on this sweet land.

Leaves falling crumbling to the forest floor. A blanket for the roots of youthful green young white pines, oaks and maples, ash and more. Gaze up through branches at soft sun between. The future’s ours and much hope is in store. What happens anymore is unforeseen. A few will rise the highest overhead. Before the spring comes most are surely dead.

The marsh became a green and grass-filled field. The beaver dam’s a skeleton from old. Those pines wave branches highest and revealed a love for all, protection from the cold. As maples red and orange have concealed those crumbling brown leaves under yellow gold. The forest constantly will change these scenes. That’s why I’m here. I think that’s what this means.

A last look back at a splash of autumn hue. This short walk in the quickly turning wood. I think I did already kind of knew. That I would find this gift, that it be good. These colors begin changing with the view. I’m glad I walked. Did everything I could. To rise and fall with natural delight. And soon enough the long cold winter’s night.

Thank you, Denise Larkin, and The Lark for publishing my poetry and these images from my short walk in the woods.