As it descends

© KV — The Old Durme, a closed-off river arm, ten minutes walk from our house

Fall has arrived. In my garden, along the rivers and ponds, in the patches of trees along the highways.

I love the fall, my birth season and ever a delight of color, if not warmth.
Fall has, over the years, helped me to appreciate the chilly thrill of humidity, the riches of harvest and the quiet resignation of letting go.

But this year, I find I have very mixed feelings as I watch the trees discolor and shed their first leaves, their fullness about to fail and fall. 
The turning almost comes as a surprise, a small shock. It is totally not in tune with where I am.

I am in the full ripening of what is perhaps my happiest year on this planet, my fullest basket of fresh produce, and my most generous sharing of it. No other year have I known an expansion and a growth like this one. And I feel the flow I’m coursing along with is not about to change its course very soon. So why is nature?

© KV

I’ll get used to it of course, eventually. I’ll welcome the shedding, like I already welcome the morning mists and the fabulous spiders’ webs.

I’ll remember my dear bird friends are so much more easy to spot in leafless canopies. I’ll remember the dark holds the most precious secrets, and the subtlest sounds.

I will embrace the season as it descends.
I will wrap myself in scarves and candle light, spread my night wings and sing fire songs of the warm dark, and of light returning.

© KV
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