a november afternoon
down I walk to the deep cedar creek,
along the less-traveled trail;
searching for certainties under the sun;
longing to see through the veil.

the sunlight falls through branches above
where leaves still stubbornly cling;
holding their place for a time in this world
against what the season will bring.

the sunlight falls through waters below,
clear to the bronze-coloured bed...
the leaves descend too;
into the stream, by whispering winds gently led.

the old trees stand dignified
with a reach too narrow to mend;
guarding the shape of the water's descent;
guarding the shape of the wind.

and together under the sun we stand;
understanding not all that we seek;
holding our place for a time in this world
down on the deep cedar creek.