dépouillement des feuilles

l'heure est au dépouillement des feuilles

à marielle magnani

can you feel sunlight touching your skin

faint hint of breeze

in the cool of an autumn morning

in these mountains that don't mind

the name they receive

not begrudging echoes to passers by

serra de monchique

we who in turn are named

and name not knowing

what naming is

who the nameless is

not knowing the name we give

is the name we take

can we see as far as we look

into open space

horizons of the seen and the unseeable

daylight and vast darkness of night sky

fuse together

never ceasing to

the never ceasing that gives us sight

hilltop trees

not arrayed as objects of contemplation

just the trees they are

companions to rocks

migrating birds and

creatures toiling in the dark

just meaning

you are invited to the space where they stand

as they step into the space where

you are none

only one

the place of no gates

where would you be were it not

for the soil that holds them

for the wind that sways and scatters them

that holds and scatters you

the one root that holds

disperses everything

the one sky that is roof

to all that inhabits this world

trees and bushes

leafage heavy with morning dew

receive waking to the same daylight

as you and me

same daylight on lips and tips of grass

that murmurs in our words as they speak

are the clouds the trees

the rolling hills outside of us

and we where are we

inside or outside this skin

this skin is it of flesh of air of rain

where is the skin

where what we call outside

where what we call inside

where the borders of the world

where the fault lines where life divides

who the one asking these questions

whomever you be

questions go beyond your asking

beyond the seeker of answers

they point to the openness

where all things gather

all things gathered

what passingness is

the one who asks

cannot step outside

sunlight and moonlight

cannot step outside the moment

where questioning abides

where silence abides

it's a listening

no one's

listening an emptying of

whatever is heard

of whomever hears

silence

for now alone we call it silence

we don't know if it stays if it goes

for now we say it holds on to nothing

for now we say it's where

all things abide

our nowhere home

nothing held on to

nothing in need of release

the heart

coeur

pour l'heure

nous t'appellons

dépouillement d'automne

envolée des feuilles

monchique, 19 october 2026