The Autumn Cottonwoods
One evening in November
I found myself alone
Among the autumn cottonwoods
Behind my childhood home
They lined the creek I walked along
And rustled in the air
With leaves as light as breath between
An old man's dying prayer
A sudden snap - I turned to see
An owl fly away
With quiet grace it disappeared
Into the evening gray
And just before I turned back home
To face the long uphill
I slowed my walk and looked for more
And listened closer still
Then soft the numinous forest spoke
In tones of pure relief:
"Your sorrow is a passing breeze.
Your pain a falling leaf."
~ Geoff Groberg
I found myself alone
Among the autumn cottonwoods
Behind my childhood home
They lined the creek I walked along
And rustled in the air
With leaves as light as breath between
An old man's dying prayer
A sudden snap - I turned to see
An owl fly away
With quiet grace it disappeared
Into the evening gray
And just before I turned back home
To face the long uphill
I slowed my walk and looked for more
And listened closer still
Then soft the numinous forest spoke
In tones of pure relief:
"Your sorrow is a passing breeze.
Your pain a falling leaf."
~ Geoff Groberg
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