''By coincidence I was by standing
Interrogated by the familiar
When a squirrel said in a dialect
Don't shun the world, shed it
I walked along a public path
I observed the birds taking a bath
They sung in code
Their message clear:
Don't shun the world, shed it
I had a drink at the concession stand
There was a dog digging through a garbage can
He whispered low
But I could understand:
Don't shun the world, shed it
I watched the ships as they arrived
The waves lapping at the harborside
Like a sleeping choir they gently cried:
Don't shun the world, shed it
There is nothing left to do
But go and ask the trees
About this shedding of the world
Do you agree?
Their leaves rustled in the breeze
And they replied authoritatively:
Don't shun the world, shed it
If anyone you meet does not believe it
You tell them the talking trees have decreed it"