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A Walk In The Autumn Woods






by Shreefal Mehta 
Oct 2025

Jackets stayed home, boxed along with thoughts of winter. 
The forest feels open, airy, and somehow lighter 
After the hot and heavy broad leafy growth of summer. 

Light-leaved branches invite the sun to pour in as through an open door
Now bathing the moss and rust-leaved forest floor, all in shade before. 
Yellow, orange red splatters covering the brown rustling carpeted floor

Each leaf grown on its own high twig; and then fallen, perfectly in place 
The wind, in which it once swayed, gently carried it down through space. 
Once high pristine green, from canopy to carpet, still gracing patterns that interlace. 

Every leaf unfurls its role fully, even as the leaf now lies. 
Abundant growth now fallen in patterns, to human eyes, delight give.
Like the leaf, observed or not, with total trust, in lows or highs,  
Unknowing greater patterns, yet secure in each moment,  fully live. 

Tiny flowers rise from the forest floor, with dedicated joy,
Unfold each with perfect form, such delicate petals brave. 
Naught else asked, but bloom your best, be bold or coy 
No one to please, or reason why, strut on stage, or in a cave.

I am here and joyous fulfilled, for a day or two or more I stay
Unfolding our best, given soil, bugs and sky above.
That’s all that’s asked to enjoy life through decades or each day. 
From deep blue sky, on this truth, the autumn sun pours its love. 





 

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