Overhead, the call of the wild as geese
begin their annual migration from north to
south in a sky glowering discontentedly
under the weight of dark, bruised clouds
preparing to release a chill rain on this early
fall day. The restless wind releases errant
dried foliage from their branched perches.
Somewhere, far off in the forest crows angrily
scold an indifferent owl. In closer proximity
to the pair shrugging their jackets closer
laggardly robins race ahead on the woodland
trail before finally taking to wing to disappear
into the forest interior. Maples have already
turned an intense crimson anxious to get their
shedding over with, followed closely by
the forest's yellowing poplars. The last of
the wildflowers glow pink and gold in the
dusk of the forest interior. There is stillness
and the quality of peace envelopes the green
mass of the forest canopy not quite prepared to
surrender to the inevitable. This year's bumper
crop of pine- and spruce-cones, nuts, berries
and acorns have sent small furred creatures
into a frenzy of collection spurred by an
ancient memory deep in their subconscious
ensuring the survival of adaptive advantage.
Withal, it is nature that sets the immutable
rules of existence, relying on her creatures to
respond as ancestral memories spur to action.
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