So still out there this morning. A very faint breeze lifts the wet leaves. There is the distant sound of crickets with that pulsing hum. A cicada gives a long buzz while it readies itself to split open and be free of it’s old self. A squirrel races across the roof with surprising pounding, like it’s a fat raccoon on the lam. I sip my hot black brew… pondering.
I let nature find my nature. Imagining the light breeze lifting my wet laden leaves from the drama of last night thunder and lighting, with the pour of the sky beating my land. Glad for the feed and not so much for the corresponding deluge that makes for exhaustion.The calm is restful as the day wakes up and I with it. That whole calm before and after the storm that I can shift into, breathe into.
The last day of August. I can smell the season change ever so slightly. Autumn is on the edge of us, ready for the harvest bounty to rise and fall back to the Earth for her winter keeping. I’m in no hurry for all that. Fall is my favorite time of the year, with all that colour and musk of the land filling me up. I welcome it; always wanting it to last longer.
Some deaths move fast, some linger on in the letting go. I wonder with that said will I linger with the vibrant colour of living, or will I let my Autumn lay me beneath a thick layer of leaf and pine, to Winter quickly. There is that unknown.
Sunlight is just kissing the tips of the leaves in that golden glow of magic. A hundred stomping squirrels make my roof an amusement park. A crow gives it’s warning. The day calls in it’s unexpected possibilities. I let the coffee do it’s magic even in my very slow rising.
Leaves kissed by the Sun
Whisper of morning breezes
Summer calls to Fall