Steve Andersen

Leaves ankle deep, fly and flutter and crash and crumble,
Their sibilating protestations cutting through the somber silence
As I trudge up the frozen fire trail, on a quest for reconciliation.

The reticular canopy of limbs and branches bear precious few
Of the summer’s erstwhile verdant photosynthesizers, which once
Shaded this path from above, and now rest on its surface.
Nature’s spectrum is dominated by the resplendent colors of temporal death
Slowly wending their way to the monochromatic austerity of winter.

The denizens of the wood timidly shun my clumsy intrusion,
Scampering or fluttering to the safety that distance can afford them,
Where they warily continue their arduous preparations,
For the imminent oppressions that falling temperatures and snow will bring.

During my pilgrimage into the quiet recesses of the not yet ravaged forest,
Escaping from the cacophony of man’s greatest achievements,
I find my consciousness transcending the barriers of its defenses,
Reaching out, searching for things to sense and recognize and assimilate,
Learning to understand something beyond the frenetic pursuit of prosperity.
I revel in the tranquility and subsequent glimpse of truth and wisdom,
However ephemeral, knowing that fear and addiction will soon
Force my return to the stressful security of technologically assisted living.