Sunday, October 02, 2005
The Breath of Autumn
The mood of the sky changes with the first chilly nights. Whether the sun reheats the day or a grey ceiling looms, the unsettled breezes can swirl on a whim, and the march of clouds can resume their race to catch retiring summer.
Such a strange contest--the glowing, moist air refusing to surrender to the black shiver of winter nights. For now, the spice of crackling leaves overwhelms the memory of frozen gusts. A relief, or a portent? The reign of day, or night? Autumn is neither. And both.
We sit along a stream and watch the colorful boats wash by. Red maple. White oak. Yellow birch. We fold ourselves into the slowing Earth, and if we nod in the drowsiness, we float on the crisp sound of water and the comfort of reassuring dreams.
Posted by jason evans at 12:04 PM