Outside and in

I walked in the woods this morning. It's been awhile. The final green of the year is changing or changed. The air is scented with the sweetness of fallen browning orange, red, and yellow leaves and mildly spiced with evergreen. I walk slowly. There's something like a mild heartbreak here. I've been away. Much has happened here since my last visit. Much has arrived and passed away without my notice or attention. Every living thing on its individual trajectory among the massive forward momentum of all life. I stop and talk with some of the mighty oaks. I watch the final flowers - white and purple and gold - turn sunlight into love which is then carried home by the final bumble bees still working tirelessly in the hundreds along the roadside. The fur-coated wooly bears are here. The quiet chatter of the Chickadees in the branches. Yellow leaves gently falling. I try not to step on the exposed roots of trees with my heavy boots.  I tell everything alive that I love it. I make an effort to feel how we are connected and then do. I pray to something I don't understand for our survival. It tells me gently to do better. To try harder.