I adore the fall.
This morning as I walked behind the garage at work, my steps became muffled and
I realized that I was treading on a bed of amber, gold and rust colored leaves
wet from the night’s heavy rain. The woods behind were silent except one
sparrow chirping into the gray morning light. The trees are near bare now yet
here and there a splash of color like oil on a canvas surprises … a small gift
from a friend.
The air
smells of moist earth and frost escapes my mouth with each breath. Light dims
and an aura of melancholy brings the blazing hearth to mind. The thought of a
warm library full of musty books and overstuffed leather chairs bleeds into an
awareness that this chill is like a bridge to imagination. 
No comments:
Post a Comment