I need to see the seasons change
Fresh grass turning into flaxen leaves for the big-eyed milky mothers
Mushrooms tracing circles around the feet of giants
Gently swaying in the wind, blue with crystals
Freshening the souls of silent wanderers
The geese gather on the water, impatiently chattering about what lies ahead
The trees drink from the dark stream below and dream of flight
Above, they see everything and say nothing
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work
Mary Oliver