The season of release. The season of settling, of coming down from the high of summer.
The season of hitting ground, then digging down, to the root of things.
The season of hitting ground, then digging down, to the root of things.
It’s the time when time turns backward, peeking around at distant beginnings, while age reinvents itself, and youth comes into maturity.
It’s slow death generating new life.
Autumn brings the introspection that clears the sightlines to the stretched out world, drawing me into meandering walks, coagulating thoughts, dreams imploding to some core clarity that
I track down with deliberate, echoing footfalls,
Pick up from the dust at the side of the road,
Brush with tentative and questioning fingers
Then slip into my pocket, to carry me along.
No comments:
Post a Comment