A path well trod

Dappled light
Fall of leaf
Mighty trunks rising to flame of color
In the afternoon autumn sun. 
 
Rush of wind, gentle, soft
Movement of wave, rippling by.
 
Exquisite leaf, random in its fallen perfection
Colors vibrant yet fading
Undisturbed by my sight 
Even as fulfilled in it
Ready to return to its rest in the good earth
Nearly as old as time.
 
Tall heron, hiding by the bank
Patiently waiting, ever attentive 
Fully at home in its world 
The only one it knows. 
Jogger dashing by
Oblivious except to bud in ear. 
 
Unseen birds chattering among fluttering leaves
Acorns resting uneasily by the path
Searching squirrel nearby
Fleeting web catching ray of sun
Fresh green sprigs on the beaver lodge
Fallen tree nearby 
Clean bites on trunk 
Scattered chips of wood 
Cormorant watching from its perch.
 
How many have trodden such a path
Always old but ever new 
Seeing, perhaps unseeing 
What is there.
Almost unlimited richness
To receive 
If one is awake. 
Beauty wasted and beauty fulfilled
Free for those who see.