A Common Loon sings an uncommon melody
regarding loneliness and love.
From a distant place comes her lover’s reply;
eventually, the two meet, again,
before light rises from the east.
Fog awakens upon the lake,
rising up like morning spirits in the still-dark dawn.
Drifting vapor enshrouds the sunrise,
ingesting morning’s luminescence
like some mimicking chameleon of light.
in this crisp new day,
is the fullest certainty of Autumn made manifest.
once young, verdant and fresh,
are now wise with gold and crimson hues.
Once-soft leaves now rattle in the wind;
a harmonious shoreline accompaniment
joining songs of water-birds across the lake.
Carpets of forest perennials are being tucked-in
beneath cast-off cloaks of Maple, Birch, and Oak.
The forest is beginning to revel
in the glory of its own nakedness,
only tentative in this autumnal time,
but eventually to dance fully and unabashed
amidst winter’s broad exposure.
This is a liminal moment;
a threshold between what was,
and is yet to be.
Melancholy emerges in these days of human-living,
just as naturally as morning fog
upon a lake too-warm for the surrounding air.
It is time to settle-in to unsettled lives.
Accept change like tamaracks consent to
each seasonal loss of their needles.
Let our own turning move us to
Truth more-lasting than fair-weather.
Let Autumn be our guide.
Let Autumn prepare us for any darkness ahead.
Let Autumn teach us it is okay to let go.
© Warren Lynn.
Beside a Northwoods Lake (an autumnal reflection)...