A brisk Autumn walk this morning,
two or three miles, what my doctor
recommends
to ward off familial predispositions,
just a short jaunt in the chill
air, to the corner
and back, and a detour to the
point, pausing to look back
to where I started, across the cove
dividing us,
to my home nestled along the far
shore, tucked under trees
stripped bare now of summer’s green
gone gold.
The leaves shake and rattle above
me in the wind,
hearty leaves hanging on, and
below, rustling,
shuffling as I go, dragging my feet
through
a thick leaf cover, reds and browns
and oranges dropped
and dried and crackling, autumn’s
music, Pan played,
and I flush a grouse or partridge,
unseen
where she lays hidden in the undergrowth,
exposed now,
fleeing my noise, this invasion of
space and time,
her wings beating a soft thunder in
her escape,
hiding once more, once again,
unmoving, watching me pass.
The air today is cold, above
freezing, barely, it seems,
and a chill wind, wind chill
dropping,
reminds me of winter to come, fast
approaching, winter blowing in,
cold and harsh;
but today, I take a brisk Autumn
walk
to ward off the familial, seeking
peace
in the changing season, autumn
rustling my soul awake, flushing
out my spirit,
readying myself for the season
ahead, watching, waiting.
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