The Fall
The beavers are preparing their cosy den
The bears feast on blueberries
For the long sleep ahead
Sleep full of dreaming
Of summers too soon gone
Yesterday I saw the wild geese
The glorious wild geese
Winging towards the South singing
The slow beat of their wings
Warning of winter’s approach
Today there are flakes of snow
Drifting in the clear air
Settling on the bright yellow leaves
Of the silver birches
Falling into the shining waters below
I long for the harsh music of city streets
To hear the busy mind of the city
Humming with activity
To feel the city’s throbbing heart
Throb in mine
Here is still, silence, peace
But I cannot stay here dreaming
Forever
Poem Written in: Pickle Lake, North-western Ontario | July 1979