Jean Rodenbough
sun-filled trees, light filtering through leaveswhile we walk along the walled path
where, who was it, once took this way
full of thoughts that wilted
for lack of witness
the dog and I make our autumn way
on fallen leaves in air tinted
by heat of fading summer—warmth
follows us into shaded shelters
along the path that opens in shadow,
woods too long in waiting for the cool
who was here before us? when light
urged the dark red earth to its seasons
before our present course—
no signs of former travelers, no hint of history,
only this moment:
the astonishing awareness of color
the day opening into memories
Photo by Stephanie Schmidt, OSB
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