Crunch of leaves,
Underfoot, a soft sound.
Golden-brown flutters down,
Red-rich, green-meagre trees
Bravely holding on.
Slant-wise light,
Deepening shadows,
Graying skies.
Dog by my side,
Paws scudding,
Joy fills her nose.
Up the slopes, and
Down the craggy
Face of the wooded hills,
Down the leafy paths
Narrow and wide,
Into that which is
Familiar, but always
Changing. Strange!
I, the human, will
Forever be the watcher,
With and without
These woods I love so well.
Never of them, but in.
But my familiar, my dog,
Will show me her world
Nose a-quiver, tail aloft,
And I will enter,
Oh, so softly,
With the scent of fall
Falling soft,
While the leaves crunch
Underfoot.
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