It probably won't last.
It definitely won't last.
But it's here for now.
For some people, autumn is the haunting time. The darkening crossroads between what is and what was. But there is another conjuring season.
In the stillness of winter, everything slows. The past, the present, and the future collapse. They mix in our long, snowy dreams.
But then, when sleep is nearly silent, the warmth sneaks in, and the hard ground grows wet and soft. The thin ghosts begin to don flesh and blood.
I walk with them, because I can taste their purpose. In their connections, they know what I'm trying to find. The most important of the ghosts is me.
As always, I'll try to listen and follow them.
Because for me, the haunting season is spring.
~~~~~~~
And just the other night
As I walked beside the shoreline
In the misty light
Standing underneath the moon
I saw you
Building a castle for the tide
Out on the beach
Ghost on the beach
~~~~~~~
--Insiders, Ghost on the Beach
And just the other night
As I walked beside the shoreline
In the misty light
Standing underneath the moon
I saw you
Building a castle for the tide
Out on the beach
Ghost on the beach
~~~~~~~
--Insiders, Ghost on the Beach
8 comments:
I can see that, Jason. The transitional seasons can't help but recall, and anticipate, other births and losses.
I, for one, am thankful for the first hint of thaw. The ghosts are getting restless. And home is starting to feel a little too much like a tomb.
Time does indeed seem to collapse during the winter. And I agree with Sarah. The ghosts get restless in the spring.
Jason,
It was merely a glimpse, but a welcome one of the season to come. The ghosts always bait us.
rel
Sarah, funny how I most sense the dark life first. Like the call of the spring peepers. It's like the thaw works from the inside out. Hang in there. The change is coming soon.
Billy, in summer, perhaps some of the ghosts become reality. Now is when they're born.
Rel, it was already gone by late afternoon yesterday. The weather is being quite the tease!
It is interestig to see what moves people. The very same season can trigger different feelings in different people - because 'the very same' does not exist.
I pronounce Jason Evans the winner of the contest for his entry, "Ghost on the Beach." I know it seems like the contest went fast. Maybe he cheated!
(Here, it is the smell of the swamp that comes up when cold and wet give way to warm and dry and the water drops away to reveal the rot. It may sound horrid, but it is quite thrilling to me, and a sign of the hot and humid life of the summer to come.)
You would have felt very ghostly around Dublin this morning - we had what they call "Freezing Fog". It does what it says on the tin - freezes everything, and you couldn't see more than a few feet. Eerie.
For me too, Jason...
You expressed this beautifully.
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