I penned the following poem in 2006 and I've posted it just about every fall since. It's my personal celebration of this season and my nudge to every reader to embrace its possibilities.
On the brink of autumn,
A hint of chill in the air,
The sun’s setting sooner,
In a few days we’ll be there
Where green turns to golden
And reapers harvest the yield,
Where dry leaves are falling
And flocking fowl arc the fields.
Then we’ll don our jackets
And brace ourselves for the wind
That rustles through branches
And billows our souls again.
Do not shrink back from fall;
Embrace this gilded season
As a grace that descends;
A gift to all from heaven.
It’s time for returning,
For in-bringing and burning,
For heart walks in deep woods,
For distilling, discerning.
What’s muddled becomes clear
And all chaff’s left exposed
As autumn’s sun glows bright
And a harvest moon shines cold.
We may shed pretenses
And travel a lighter way
Our hearts as crisp as leaves
That lift, then sail away.
As we are being turned,
Turn: facing all the changes—
The falling, the cooling,
And the encroaching darkness.
Lean into the season
Lest it overtake your way.
Let your soul be opened;
Relish its gift this fall day.
John Franklin Hay
Indianapolis, Indiana, USA
