Stop For the Hush

 A friend met me for a fall hike yesterday and I had numerous moments where I had to stop in  my tracks and take note of the grace and beauty of the world around me.  I felt I needed to share some of my wonder and appreciation, and so I wrote this poem/prose.

The world is an almost twilight grey, with a few bright patches of eerily glowing leaves yet to cease clinging from their branches.  

The leaf strewn paths beckon and invite to crunch along their twisty ways. 

All is quiet and hushed, fall not quite done, but winter ever nearer in the icy air.

A sudden streak of bright white motion through the leaf bare forest. Two swans make their graceful way up into the sky.

Careful short stepping with toes gripping through shoes, we make our way on the slippery frost glazed boardwalk.

The lake is mirror glass still, golden reeds and white egret perfectly tranquil.  Not a ripple, not a breath of air to mar this perfect reflection.

Paths continue onward and upward, over hills and watching for rocks and roots hidden under the carpet of leaves, ready to catch a toe or turn an unwary ankle.

Leaves mostly fallen, and yet we happen upon some groves of bright color. Wondering at some strange chance of nature that keeps these brilliant moments in the forest.

Keeping eyes to the ground, looking for hazards we might miss the soft light glowing through the leaves above. 

A familiar sight each fall, greeting us like an old friend. The vivid leaves over the path remind us of falls gone by.

Making our way back to the beginning and through the towering pines. Crunching feet stilling for a breath or five. Listening for the susurration of the wind through the treetops.

Whispering to us to stay

and rest in the hush of the world

waiting for it's blanket of snow.