This is the time of year when the earth light dies.
You do not have to be good,
You do not have to walk on your knees,
You only have to let the soft animal of your body Love what it Loves,
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Mean while the world goes on.
Meanwhile the Sun and the clear pebbles of the rain, are moving across the landscape over the prairies
and deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese,
high in the clear blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are , No matter how lonely the world offers itself,to your imagination, calls to you like the Wild Geese,
harsh and exciting - over and over,
announcing your place in the family of things.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This is a sacred time for the birds and the butterflies make their pilgrimage home for the winter in the South.
The birds can be seen with a telescope as they pass across the Full Corn Harvest - Bird Moon.