(Lines written in celebration of a natural phenomenon)
Gold is wherever you look —
up the treetops, down in the moss.
Be glad; enjoy your fortune
while you can feel and see it —
this luck won’t stay forever with us.
These are the days
when the aspen shines
more brightly than the sun.
These leaves are the lights;
the aspen trees the guides
on your path to winter.
No more green;
no need for shade.
These last weeks of the mushroom season
bright chanterelles have grown —
after the rain, the wind, the unpleasantness —
in unexpected places;
in aromatic abundance.
Recall when all is dark, cold, hidden:
rustling light; fragrant gold.