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| aspen leaves look like golden coins tinkling from weathered white branches |
wind child, unseen, nevertheless felt; no origin or home. wind child comes and goes, disturbing all she blows through and past, over and under, tossed and turned. wind child blusters and plays a mirthful game of hide and seek
I stepped out the front door to a blast of wind. It wasn’t hot and it
wasn’t cold, just wind gusting on an autumn afternoon. Why do we use the word
fall more than autumn?
Dry leaves clattered down the sidewalk, as a cloud of dirt and debris
from a nearby construction site forced me to close my eyes, and I hoped Bella
was doing the same.
Taking a left on the next block, pine needles lay like pick-up sticks
on the sidewalk and late season purple asters grew. My senses were on high
alert. The wind does that; it disturbs everything.
I felt it blowing hair out of my face; saw it kicking up and
knocking down leaves of almost iridescent yellow and ruby crimson.
It was magical to simply be a participant in a grand display
that I, quite frankly, do not control or own or manage. My part is to take it in.
Missy
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Beautifully said, Missy. I think we use fall because temperatures, leaves, branches and for some, our moods are falling like a rock as we have less sunlight. The wind messes with my ions and always leaves me feeling unsettled. I agree that it's our job purely to find joy in it. I love the autumn of the year. Getting ready to hibernate. Have a lovely weekend.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Marlene. I hope this reply finds you settled ... at least settling in to the seasonal change. Have a great week, my friend!
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