Yesterday, we drove down to the Kingston (RI) train station and took a fine four-mile walk on the William C. O’Neill Bike Path. We have ridden our bikes many times on this trail, but this was our first time walking it, and it was wonderful. What I noticed most of all, not surprisingly, was the grand bedspread of autumn leaves everywhere, as if the earth was snuggling down for the coming months of cold.
The path wore a coverlet of damp, colorful leaves, almost making it seem like we were walking on softness instead of on solid asphalt.
The deep, wet woodland was filled with old leaves from older trees – some leaves lying in heavy-looking heaps, and some still staying on their limbs, lingering on.
At one point, we crossed a small bridge over the Chipuxet River, where the view made oldness and passing away seem beautiful.
And these fast-fading acorns and leaves and grass sprigs, the senior citizens of autumn’s woods, looked old in the most perfect and peaceful way.
On the return path, we lucky ones walked on a road strewn with shreds of gold.