Take the apples when you go
and take the boughs and the early shadows
that slide westward and the jeweled stain
that blazes all morning in the grass
after a night of rain.

Take the road that circles the pines -
it furrows the hill and follows the river.
Take the sunlight on the trees
and the voices of the waterfall
and the whispers as you sink to your knees
in moss around the pool.

Take the birches, the stillness, the path
up the mountain, the uncertain doe
licking her fawn; take the twilight,
and the moments after a thrush's call.
Take them when you go.