The wind is blowing.
It is autumn.
The wind blows because? it is autumn.
The wind blows and it is autumn
so the nights grow colder;
that days grow milder
until they too grow cold.
It is time for renewal.
To the novice all is novel.
To the initiate all is integral.
I suppose nothing of the masterful yet.
I suppose not.
When the initiate in dark clothes says naught,
it is not there are no thoughts
but that the world is too cold for those infant thoughts to emerge.
A tree is a seed which has known winter.
When the wind blows, the trees give it their leaves because it is here for yet a season and has such a brief time to be adorned with color
And besides, they know that soon the barrenness from which all—through which all must—can pass
is near, and so
because while the winds brood pacing
spring plots its conquest