Recreation of the Heart

I had been dreading it, but the changing of the leaves
I now welcome…The days are crisp now, like the juicy of an apple. The sunlight is precious and early. Awaking with the dawn is pleasant and is more so once I remember the geese:

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

This poem is about spring, a season of being in between, much like fall. As I walk through these days I feel the chill of the air, the bright sun, and I am thankful for seasons of being-in-between, that is now fall but leaves hope for spring.