September 21, 2006

Singing Myself Home

Autumn sunlight is traversing the morning garden
in clouds of leaf dust, dew and singing birds,
with its wordless benediction of returning light.

Ash leaves are dancing aloft in the rainbow air and
the frosty wind, whirling like native born dervishes,
and I am dancing too, in this, my chosen place.

If I am becoming anything at all, then I am becoming myself,
the wild red leaf that flutters here, this gold and russet September.
Becoming myself now, I am singing myself home.