Take Heart

The season is turning

with the aroma of fall;

Gaia exhales and the scent

of leaves and open earth

fill the air with her essence.

The thud of boots

and grinding wheels

obscure the delicacy

of her rising

yet even the timid

take heart in autumn

letting go like trees

in the winds of October.


 


6 Responses to “Take Heart”

  1. Elaine Pruliere says:

    Beautiful poem. Definitely catches the essence of Fall. I love the smell of woodsmoke; the beautiful reds, oranges and yellow leaves. Alas all gone too soon, for the long winters nap, yet cleansed anew by winters icy breath. Then to start all over again in regal emerald and forest greens. Ah the seasons — I LOVE THEM ALL. :)))

  2. Bill Dare says:

    Thanks, Don… I can smell her essence and am releasing my “stuff” as the leaves off my maple fall to her bossom.

    Blessings,
    Snowy

  3. Pi Chay says:

    How sweet is the “Indian Summer” air of spirit that imbues your creativity, Don! Below, I describe my unfolding journey and see that it fits snugly in the context you create. Thank you.

    Leaves fall to the ground and immediately enter a composting cycle of renewal. So, too, my long tenure of tears having fallen like the leaf, into the ground of Being; and now bringing renewal as there is the transmutation of grief into joy. Behold my new life rising, my new world dawning as I prepare my move to Chaiyaphum to rejoin my beloved.

  4. Sandy Jensen says:

    You’re getting better and better at the volte, that mysterious turn from the light into the mysterious path of the dream/poem. I’m teaching poetry next term,; it would be fun if you could do a guest workshop! Say a Friday class at noon, then out to dinner?

  5. Anne Blaney says:

    Ah, as an autumn aficionado (coming from Ottawa where it’s magnificant), I loved what you caught here. The image of even the timid, letting go into the winds of October…ah, the healing “smudge” of Nature. Love it.

  6. Living in hot and humid East Texas for most of my life, I learned to love October. Most people laud spring or summer. For me, Autumn was the Queen. Life stirred within me and I breathed deeply of the cool, crisp, golden air. Feeling free at last of the oppressive summer my spirit danced with the trees as they shook their leaves to the ground. Years later, the pattern abides as I walk through high mountain forests showing the Aspen gold. It seems the higher I go the better I breathe.

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