Slanting light slips silent
through turning amber leaves
to fall on spent summer greens
and cast a gold glow on the eve.
Soil giving slightly under foot
and air blowing softly on brow,
I seek the spot where birches bend
and the slow swaying pines do bow.
Retracing your retreat
into realms long forgot.
I recall what it is you taught me
that lessons and library could not.
The revelations that rise
only in the strange solitude
of the lively chaos trees provide
and reveal truths obscured by haste.
Here, among the stoic elders,
I absorb the wisdom of the wood,
hear the whispered words spoken
by a heart pleading, “Do what you would.”