Autumn leaves, Bloomington, 2021. Image credit: David Hirst
At sixty four, feeling dour, out walking.
So many doors, concrete floors all crossed through.
Alive, I strive, redefine in forest
clime, climbing out of dark, light gathering
sparks from lives shared and hope from joys scattered
amid family loves and dear friends’ warm thoughts.
We are brought to the world by passion’s thoughts
and union sought, that once wrought starts walking
the trails, the trials that fail, the thoughts scattered
about like so many leaves that fall through.
The canopy gleams below gathering
sunlight to brighten the darkening forest.
Wired to sense, see, touch, smell, taste a forest
fired up to burn up burnt out blue thoughts
and to wander, while my mojo gathering
is sewn in the seams of my self walking
being made anew, made aware, all through
these woods in which my thoughts are scattered.
Hopes, once shattered now spill about scattered
on this trail of glimmering leaves. In forest
it may well be that broken hopes spill through
the dark impenetrable sorrow-filled thoughts
and disperse somber feelings when walking.
Sky blue and leaf gold my eyes are gathering.
To celebrate the power of gathering,
light and dark, joy and grief must be scattered
on the loamy leaf strewn path while walking
silently, surrounded by sounds of forest.
Creatures chirping, peeping into my thoughts
spurning fears, churning ideas through and through.
So turning from dark while having gone through
this stand of tall oaks, where squirrels are gathering
acorns from ground to crown, up, down, my thoughts
leave leaves to turn to loam and grief is scattered
like so many seeds in this deep forest.
My heart is lifted from gloom by walking.
By walking and sensing one's self breaks through.
Amid forests of light and dark go gathering
seeds of life and scattering fear-worn thoughts.
David Hirst
10/17/21
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