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(Would you rather hear me read this to you? Listen to the spoken version at the end of this post.)

Shh, if you listen, there’s
a quiet lurking in the hush
whisper of the dry grasses
breezing across the meadow
The chill in the air creaks around
the corner to cradle your cracking
bones as you sit on the body of the earth
The sky’s silent grey clouds
cloak the treeline.
The energy has pulled in,
drawn deep into the ground;
down the branches and the stems
down the trunks and the roots
into the core of the earth
resting with the fungi
settling in for hibernation.
Alive and well yet rooted and sleepy,
dreams creep up the branches, 
blowing wishes on 
the remaining orange leaves 
falling to the ground.
Brittle branches quiver
Lone birds screech
And the grasses tell secrets
to rapt ears pressed against 
quietly howling winds
the truth of which shivers
down your limber body
to meet your bare fingers
lingering a little longer
for the gift of peace aching
to be known at the center of
this winter vision. 
Rest is calling.
Drowsy, dazed, sleepy.
Like a lullaby, cooing
in your ear, enticing you
into slumber, nested in the 
warmth of a den, bedded
with straw and feathers.
Your animal body knows the 
feeling, triggered by the
signature of darkness
courting the sun
Daylight and energy are numbered.
You make haste to complete
what you can while you’re able,
before the creeping claws of
nature’s sandman tug at your
coat tail, coxing you gently
to sleep. Winter 
hibernation has arrived
on your doorstep.
Will you heed the call?
Or will you thrash about
like a child in resistance
to the sleep that hangs
on his eyelids?
Nature’s request has been
made known. Seductive
and tantalizing like a sweet
perfume wafting in the air
to take you under 
to help you complete
this year.

Would you rather hear me read this to you? Listen to the spoken version here.

Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash