There is great discourse among trees now.
Everywhere maples and oaks are dancing.
The October moon, the rising rivers
& migrant winds arouse the watershed.
There are messengers moving
Through the forest now
Like herds of caribou on the tundra.
This is a foreign language needing no interpreter.
When the will of summer surrenders
To the darkness of fall and winter,
Then the undertow of the other world
Calls everything to itself.
It’s the time of gathering and letting go.
Even the tall pines are alert
Watching crows and geese in flight.
This is the knowing inherent in everything
Flowing everywhere forever.