25 Oct The Call of Autumn Colors: Fall Foliage Photo Poetry
I am no slow walker
until I step upon the path of nature’s red carpet,
the wind kicking leaves along the roots of my feet,
grabbing me by the ankles.
And I am no poet
until the patchwork of bright golds and greens of the forest
lights up in the sun, and rains a confetti of leaves
in the crisp breeze.
So I grab my pen.
But after a few stanzas, I hear Her whispering to me
through the sound of the water
slipping over the river rocks:
You must give me everything, She says.
All the energies of your youth,
all the wisdom of your age,
your so-called disposable income,
and your endless patience.
You must give me your fear of death,
and your love of life.
I need your eyes too, and your nose;
your fingers and toes;
your center of gravity; the nape of your neck.
In return, you will receive:
the most stunning,
the most alarming,
the most freeing
landscapes of this earth.
I will send guides to unveil my jewels,
and your companions will run their fingers over the multi-colored surfaces,
just as you do.
And I will pelt you with rain.
And I will fill you with exhaustion.
And I will suck out your sweat.
I will resurrect your childhood.
You will feel the sting of tears as Awe
breaks into your chest, and clutches your heart
in her magnificent talons.
Together, we will stretch your fear
and your gratitude
until they threaten to break your mind,
your very identity.
We will continue to visit you,
grabbing at your ankles,
until you relinquish,
until you let go of your safe distance
from the miraculous world before you.
# # #
Will you answer the call?
Will you walk through Vermont’s multi-colored, fern-laced hardwood forests with Backroads
or stand above Japan’s Takachiho Gorge in fall with legendary travel writer Don George?
Latest posts by Sabine Bergmann (see all)
- The Unfolding Perspective of Travel - November 25, 2017
- The Call of Autumn Colors: Fall Foliage Photo Poetry - October 25, 2017
- In Conversation with Tim Cahill - August 19, 2017