Song for Autumn

Mark Berens

Song for Autumn

In the deep fall

don’t you imagine the leaves think how

comfortable it will be to touch

the earth instead of the

nothingness of air and the endless

freshets of wind? And don’t you think

the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,

warm caves, begin to think

of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep

inside their bodies? And don’t you hear

the goldenrod whispering goodbye,

the everlasting being crowned with the first

tuffets of snow? The pond

vanishes, and the white field over which

the fox runs so quickly brings out

its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its

bellows. And at evening especially,

the piled firewood shifts a little,

longing to be on its way.

Mary Oliver 


Yes, let's try to imagine what a leaf thinks.(!) It takes a certain kind of individual to anthropomorphize at this level. Scientists seem to find it repugnant, innacurate, childish. But to unscientific me, it shows someone who feels they are in a relationship with the world around them. A person who feels this is trusting that life is meaningful.  And so should we. How does it feel to be a tree? Or the skeleton of a wildflower? And why does it matter? Because everything matters, every single thing. And so we live thoughtfully, thoroughly, deliberately, not taking our place in the world for granted, because everything we do has meaning too.