This is the first entry of my rambling thoughts…something that has been long in my mind to do. I settle here at the pine table table with the lamp on a evolving gray day in autumn. Not far from me two sons are creating quite a breakfast feast, our two cats are looking out the window while grabbing the last of the morning sun. A mug of coffee gets sniffed by one of them as they stroll across my table on their way to a soft warm spot to sleep, sounds of a football game coming from the living room adds to our family’s Sunday morning’s sounds.
It has taken a long time for autumn to actually arrive-it finally did two nights ago when the chill in the house stayed until midday. It has been quite warm this year-even the fall colors in 80 degree sunshine seemed out of place. But now it is coming and the winds have stirred. Aspen gold has come and soon to be gone-carpeting the yellow green grass. The apples have begun to drop, and what has not been eaten by the deer will be picked up and tasted for possibilities. Our farmers markets are now gone; the wind whips at their stalls from across the lake as they pack up their season-saying “so long” to them..never a good bye. They will be back in the spring green and warm sun.
And so I am on my way to autumn as an excerpt from my poem below suggests. Each year it seems a different way is created unlike the previous year:
“On my way to autumn,
I hear echoes of carefree music and joyous breath
still dancing on our weathered and wind drifted beach,
and into the first brush of winter’s coming.”
Le petit lapin espiègle à la veste bleue vous a toujours séduit par ses facéties et vous souhaitez en savoir plus sur celle qui lui a donné vie, ce blog vous ouvre la porte du monde fascinant de Beatrix Potter
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An Empyrean Cycle
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