Not Out of Reach

They begin to come down
This time of year
From the Mountains.
And in my town, 
You are as likely 
To see them anywhere
As you are to see people
Or birds at the bird feeder.
But if you are not careful,
Just like birds
They disappear.
Did you know
That there are people
Who cannot see the birds,
People who have not
Seen them for years.
It is one huge 
Mass of metal for them,
And glass, and wood
And papers filled with numbers,
And dates on a page.
But for those still alive
To their soul questions
In October
After the first snows,
The deeper world 
Of the mystic wood 
Seeps down into the towns,
And if you watch,
You will see it
In their eye.
And then you will know 
That that there is hope
And that you are not
Out of reach.
Thank God!