''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"