Wind is a Wit

Tokens of autumn that will soon be left on my doorstep, and everywhere. The wind longs to play with them, to move them about, to toss them in the air. Apparently wind is a wit.

 

Holding My Breath

Holding my breath for autumn, 

Looking to tree and sky, 

Knowing she's on her way here soon, 

My soul waives a calming sigh . 

"It Is Beautiful"

 Last night, in the middle of the night, there were beautiful storms surrounding the house. The thunder woke me up, the lightening starred the show, the sound of the rain brought softness and comfort, and I was completely wrapped up in the moment of it. Rainstorms, especially these kind of really dramatic ones, have always been one of my favorite experiences, I truly adore them. The storms continued in the morning, and these special words were heard in my day, from a child, just experiencing such a storm for maybe one of the first times in his little life. He said while looking out the window, "It is beautiful." I couldn't agree more. 

Autumn Dreaming

 

My autumn dreams just about now. I know it'll be awhile before the color changes and leaf drops reach the valleys, but it always comes fast, and before you know it, it's here. For now, I'm just dreaming of collecting fall bouquets, stealing glances at the mountains, and wishing I was running on the forest floor like this. The joy that autumn brings isn't found as fully in any other season for me. I truly wait for these special days all year long. The thing to remember is that autumn dreams do come true. 

A Feeling Inside

  

 Autumn awakens me and restores my soul, one leaf at a time. Just the whispers of her arrival are enough to stir a feeling inside that welcomes all that she brings. I can breathe, I feel the flutter of every leaf in the secret corners of my soul, and it's all beautiful to me. Her decadent colors fade into the landscapes that are painted in my mind. The way she arrives slowly, but confidently, and knocks on the back door to make the loveliest changes to the trees I adore, then gifts the ground with her offerings, speaks bliss to my wind-blown, season-changing heart. And I feel everything she touches, every breath she catches, and every picture she paints, until the very last leaf falls.

Everyone Knows It's September