Autumn. It was always my favorite season. The warm afternoons, cool evening, the leaves falling. I got married in the autumn and in the next few days will celebrate another year.
I came across a poem recently that spoke of this time of year.
Song for AutumnIn the deep falldon’t you imagine the leaves think howcomfortable it will be to touchthe earth instead of thenothingness of air and the endlessfreshets of wind? And don’t you thinkthe trees themselves, especially those with mossy,warm caves, begin to thinkof the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleepinside their bodies? And don’t you hearthe goldenrod whispering goodbye,the everlasting being crowned with the firsttuffets of snow? The pondvanishes, and the white field over whichthe fox runs so quickly brings outits blue shadows. And the wind pumps itsbellows. And at evening especially,the piled firewood shifts a little,longing to be on its way.
It speaks of the season in ways I had not considered. A natural order that accepts the coming changes.