This first morning after the change of time back to
standard from daylight saving finds me waking confused.. The morning light and
the time on my clock do not match. The clock tells me that it is too early to be
up yet; the sun tells me that it is time to move. I am persuaded by my stomach,
a need for coffee... and the press of my bladder.. With a vote of 3 against 1, I
start my day.
Early November and the weather is still sunny and warm. Many of the trees are holding onto green leaves though some have changed and dropped. The great 'V' formations of honking geese have not yet crossed the sky in any significant numbers. Grass is still green and growing. Indian Summer.
Autumn lingers.
Warm weather, sunshine, plants, squirrels - and people, all seem to be holding onto this season - for just a little longer... like a breath held, we know it will be released - and with greater force..
Waiting to exhale, I think of days walking on a tree lined cottage road.. ankle deep in rustling leaves - bare branches raking a grey blue sky, cold and clear... I think of our breath briefly hanging visible in the air.. I think of holding onto your gloved hand and feeling the transfer of heat between us.. I think of a fire, coffee, and curled up under a blanket as the dark presses against the windows... the first flakes of snow falling, catching them on our tongues and seeing them caught in you hair and lashes... I think of the pink of your cheeks from the cold, and warming them with my hands... I think of waking and rising to the day to start breakfast - talking to you from across the room - or listening to your breathing...
Each new season brings it's beauty. The end of each season is the promise of the next one...
Early November and the weather is still sunny and warm. Many of the trees are holding onto green leaves though some have changed and dropped. The great 'V' formations of honking geese have not yet crossed the sky in any significant numbers. Grass is still green and growing. Indian Summer.
Autumn lingers.
Warm weather, sunshine, plants, squirrels - and people, all seem to be holding onto this season - for just a little longer... like a breath held, we know it will be released - and with greater force..
Waiting to exhale, I think of days walking on a tree lined cottage road.. ankle deep in rustling leaves - bare branches raking a grey blue sky, cold and clear... I think of our breath briefly hanging visible in the air.. I think of holding onto your gloved hand and feeling the transfer of heat between us.. I think of a fire, coffee, and curled up under a blanket as the dark presses against the windows... the first flakes of snow falling, catching them on our tongues and seeing them caught in you hair and lashes... I think of the pink of your cheeks from the cold, and warming them with my hands... I think of waking and rising to the day to start breakfast - talking to you from across the room - or listening to your breathing...
Each new season brings it's beauty. The end of each season is the promise of the next one...
No comments:
Post a Comment