Autumn Poems for a Forest Shrine

Cold weather brings a need

For socks and thick shoes with rubber soles,

Stubborn as I am though,

On each ankle, blisters form like little jewels;

A pair of ruined cotton slippers lay on the deck;

A trail of sopping mud,

My footsteps stain the grey of the sidewalk

My mind stains every visable tree branch

Today I sang out to the birds in their song

Tomorrow I will sing out to them in my own

Having walked the forest trail many times

At one moment it is green, the next yellow

Unconditionally bound to winter; it freezes over white

And melts blue into the orange of wildflowers

Chosen to rest eternal in the black soil

Cut by the edge of a silver knife

To be placed into a brass vase

Returning to the white as dust;

An unflinching light lets dance a billion particles

All phenomena empties with the seasons

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