fall

Nature – Stones

Do the stones we find on the shoreline, inspected closely before placing in a pocket for safe keeping, care that millions of years of effort have vanished?

We may live in nature, within its surroundings the forests’ cradling hands, but we must remember the cradling hands found us as they were here first, before we arrived as simple celestial beings.

Early October and the first snowfall through 30 degree temperatures, the leaves are still green and the grass is layered with a white coat. Gray rolling clouds ooze more snow as the winds toss individual flakes from rooftops and place them elsewhere in growing drifts.

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Nature – Land, a Fall Perspective

Evening approaches the valley shielded under the canopy of oak. The colors change from green began a week ago and today the carpet has become red. A southerly wind rattles the dense forest, shaking loose leaves and small branches. Other than nature it is quiet and calm. I come here for the quiet and calm. Peace abounds as the shadows like a blanket settle over the landscape.

I ride past open fields of golden tops swaying in the wind. The setting sun cast long is bright to the naked eye, but warm, beautiful, and peaceful.

I ride the single-track dirt trail through an immense soundscape of birds calling, squirrels foraging for nuts, and the blue jays singing.

I witness the last preparation of bees. One by one they take flight with cargo, like helicopters slowly leaving the earth, and into the setting sun. Evening dew settles upon the elongated grass, capturing the last rays of light.

The butterfly visited me today. Within the back trails under the coming darkness, the color of wings pushing the air creating a vibration captured my attention as it crossed directly in front of me.

The setting suns light scatters with the thin white clouds occupying the evening sky.

I continue to ride and the trail ascends before flattening out, bringing me between field and placid waters clinging to the last light.

The transition of summer to fall contains a new color palette as greens give way to red, yellow and orange. Flaming red maple leaves fall from the sky as I look up, standing in the middle of the trail.

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Poem – Calming

What more can I ask for,
what more can I expect,

than the colors of autumn
calming the chaos within.

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Poem – Late Summer

With the charged air wavering
between summer and autumn

we walked beneath the canopies
throwing scattered light on

faces thankful for the sun
thankful for the peace within the city.

Thinking only about my feet
and where they land next

I closed my eyes and kept
moving along the path

I opened my eye and I was
cast between here and there.

Poem – The Day Wisdom Came from the Clouds Above

(1)

Summer months fell into the autumn.
Mist clung to pine before the sun rose.

Brown needles falling from the sky
slide down the barn’s green metal roof.

We walk past fallen trees, piles of brush,
two tree stumps to be removed, knee-high

patches of weeds and wild flowers, a
bat house, three thistle-filled socks,

a burnt circle in the dirt from last
years burning, and finally the green gate.

(2)

The open field stretches to the horizon
and beyond with our imagination as to

the wonders nature has planned as
the sun emerges above the treeline.

From the east, we hear them.
Closer, louder, they circle at

great heights, specs in the sky,
appearing to descend the closer

they come to the field, as we
move behind grasses.

One last circle and their
grand black bodies against

the autumn blue, pass over
our heads, a slow motion dream

with an empty mind, one wing flap
echoes through the open field

and soon the whoosh disappears
along with the raven, natures’ wonder.

Poem – The Depth of November

November is the transition of fall to winter.
November gives up the red, orange, yellow, and gold for brown into grey.

The sky gains depth, definition, and clarity.
November is laid bare at your feet and we head within ourselves to find warmth and answers to the probing questions and immediate need to cope with change.

November is the month we begin to find ourselves.

November Depth

November Depth

Poem – The First Flake

The child’s nose leaves prints on the glass
kitchen window overlooking the apple tree.

Wide-eyed, determined, safe –
was that a snowflake?

Did one land in the grass?
A frantic search for the

first snowflake signaling
winter, snow forts, and snow days.

There, that has to be one!
And the phone call to grandma

to let her know, that it is snowing,
that I will remember this forever.

Looking Forward

Whatever is forward becomes
the present before becoming the past
and with eyes open we absorb
nature in all of its glory.

Leroy-Park