On the return half of this walk In the afternoon, after life slipped in this morning In a day that has been idyllic since waking Before sunrise, as a start, and now Maybe it’s the low southern angle of the sun Realizing that this forest filled profusion of leaves Surrounding me, not only change color with the cool They dance on their branches and twirl on their stems in the Easterly winds, The lighter undersides of the leaves in the top most branches Flicker in light breezes, from ground level there appear to be a group of chatty birds at treetop, The breeze turns the tops of each tree along the winding vanishing point along this path As a seemingly continental surge of seeming birds dance and chatter along their tops This magical mesmerizing dance and preen ends as the breeze subsides and the leaves stop spinning, revealing their light undersides, the “birds” disappear but my moment of disillusion is so much innocent joy.
