See we had the fall, and the summer, and back to the fall
again.
Fall's my favorite season, and this is "A Song of the Autumn."
"The clear wings of the mayflies turn to slate.
You hear the cricket counting more slowly,
and a stillness amplify the sound.
As you sit, a mushroom lifts its head.
A pearl from a dim world clamors into this one.
A dead stump sprouts with strangely soft flowers,
deepening the autumn as its haze.
The stray men you chance on as you
travel the back roads linger, talking
with you through the afternoon.
Now, if the frost destroys your garden
and an innocent sadness should weigh
on you like their forgotten names, you can accept it.
You will say, the world is not a human place,
though we live here.
Now, the shedding of the tree, now,
the woodchuck crawling underground,
you will not look for special mercy."