Wednesday, October 25, 2006

New poem

Gold is wherever you look -
up the treetops, down in the moss.
Be glad; enjoy your fortune
while you can feel and see it -
this luck won't stay forever with us.

These are the days
when the aspen shines
more brightly than the sun.

These leaves are the lights;
the aspen trees the guides
on your path to winter.

No more green;
no need for shade.

These last weeks of the mushroom season
bright chanterelles have grown -
after the rain, the wind, the unpleasantness -
in unexpected places, in aromatic abundance.

Recall when all is dark, cold, hidden:
rustling light; fragrant gold.

© Maria Ljungdahl 2006

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