They hang gracefully, but almost mournfully,

over the paths in the deep forest,

all around them, the leaves have begun to turn and fall,

and die, they line the forest floor,

they whisper of sacred nourishment and life,

I think, these proud leaves are saying goodbye, lowering

their heads in prayer, waiting for the others,

before they take the leap,

are they sad, or accepting?,

preparing to glide softly down to the soil below.

When the sun is out, the forest gets social,

and likes to chat, the owls, chipmunks, songbirds,

and frogs.

Look what can happen, fellow seeker,

when you listen to the sighs of the trees,

and lean your graceful arms up in prayer,

and you look up at every bit of light that you can catch,

and the musicians of the forest sing their song to you.

Today, the Last Goodbye.