Cool morning, gentle sun,
a trail, a walk, leaves on the ground.
I am slowly arresting the sweet presence of autumn
in an inspired and respectful moment of observation.
Lots of symbolism and metaphors,
of sentimentalism and melancholy.
It is just impeccably poetic.
I am soaking in the moment, absorbing the absolutes,
sensing the dignity and beauty in what is before me.
Time is slithering quietly.
There is an absolute presence that humbles and purifies me
as I become aware of remembrance and passages,
of the panorama that vibrantly presents itself,
of acknowledging the presence of a force that is larger than me.
Yes, the walk, the otherness, the simplicity of the moment,
a gratitude and appreciation and the constant nibbling
of longing and belonging, a blessing.
I feel a deep sense of place,
a Haiku in between spaces of written words,
a deepening with no words
an existence that cannot be seen.
And even though I do not see birds,
I just happen to know…