The mechanical click of the grasshopper’s wings
Invites some hidden mystery
That I thought I had discovered.
And I try to grasp it with both my hands
But then it flits to somewhere else.
I try to remember—if I can remember--
The hidden enigmas of my favorite season.
There are words inscripted on the bark
Of all the forest trees
These are words that only I can track
That only I can read.
I thought I read all the secrets
But God has proved me wrong
Which is not a bad thing, and will happen again.
The sun has woven canopies with all the forest leaves
The sun has woven patterns on the forest ground
And there are secrets in the forest wind
And there are secrets in the forest sounds
And I listen in sweet reverie
To all the secrets yet unfound.