The Sun's Fingers Probing the Forest

To stride along a wooded, bowered
pathway during fall's season is to
experience a unparalleled adventure in
sensory perceptions. The crisp air of
autumn overtakes the discomfort of
warm humidity given to summer's
passing days, however treasured.

The autumn wood is redolent with
scents of our childhood, sweet and acrid.
Birdsong rings more transparent, the
atmosphere alive with winged insect life
celebrating the brief presence of their
existence as they fade toward winter.

Underfoot, we crush desiccated leaves,
the detritus of wind-fallen twigs, seed pods
and cones. Caterpillars hasten to spin their
cocoons, spiders to seek shelter in improbable
crevices. Furred creatures of the forest
diligently gather and cache winter stores.

The forest canopy, still thick with foliage,
shelters those striding below the branches
from inundating showers. Shades of red,
orange, yellow, absorb the brightness
of the sun's fingers probing the forest.