HomeUncategorizedOn the Cusp of Cold

blessings, day 6

It is night. The windows are open, and the choir thicket of crickets and the treetop chant of the katydids weaves into my house. It will not be long. It will not be long before the cold fingers of Autumn mute this orchestra, before everything has been touched by the spell of her hand and gone underground, sleeping, curled tight into the coming Night. But tonight the air is warm, the forest is quilted with the chorus of insects, and in the morning the butterfly bushes will be draped with monarchs dangling from magenta blooms, the air will be clear and sweet with Autumn’s fragrance, and the Sun will pour her glorious gold into the still green world of the mountainsides. It is the last days of green.

When the cold comes, she will touch everything. We will all feel it, within ourselves, some window shut, some curling tight, and the Night will reign. Our bodies will know it, in ways beyond the reach of thought, and we will walk into the dreaming time carrying the seeds of summer in our hands. Everything is as it should be.


Comments

On the Cusp of Cold — No Comments

Leave a Reply