We lost a tree last weekend in the wind. If truth be told, the tree had been dead for some time. It was just waiting for the wind to bring it down.

Poets don’t speak of this season, at least not in waxing lyrical verse. But, for me, the forest manifests a richness that is analogous to its power in the summer. Like ouroboros, the serpent that eats its own tail, the forest is its own progenitor. Click on the image for a larger view.