Today the peace of autumn pervades the world.

In the radiant noon, silent and motionless, the wide stillness

rests like a tired bird spreading over the deserted fields

to all horizons its wings of golden green.

Today the thin thread of the river flows without song, leaving

no mark on its sandy banks.

The many distant villages bask in the sun with eyes closed in

idle and languid slumber.

In the stillness I hear in every blade of grass, in every speck

of dust, in every part of my own body, in the visible and

invisible worlds, in the planets, the sun, and the stars,

the joyous dance of the atoms through endless time—the

myriad murmuring waves of Rhythm surrounding Thy


—Rabindranath Tagore


The leaves on my Japanese maple, which have glowed a brilliant scarlet all fall, were bejewelled with raindrops glittering in the sun like rubies yesterday morning. Today, they are shriveled and withered, clinging curled and ruddy gray to the baring branches. Fall is ending, and winter is coming, and I wanted to share this poem before any more leaves fell.

May you know the peace of autumn skies and liquid sunshine at least once more before winter falls.