There is softness underfoot The giving husks of leaves shelled off in the heat An unseasonable carpet Autumn’s crackle with none of its bright fresh sky There is sand, dry earth, Tree roots breaking free of ground And reaching through heavy air before Digging grubby fingers back into the ground The canopy sighs, stirs Murmurs its resistance As heat presses the treetops And they stand it, gracefully. They have seen summers like this before. And you Guest who treads the woodland earth And wondering wanders its hallowed trails Sighing with its trees Did you come to lose or to find Yourself or something else you seek To rest, or restless pace the halls of nature Until your soul sings or is at peace?