It is Autumn. And, once again, I am captivated by his beauty.
The rustling of wind dancing in the trees and dancing with the leaves already resting on the grass or clothing the naked pavement. The crimson, gold, burgundy, chestnut, copper, and purple creeping down the tops of trees and tips of leaves like the whimsical stroke of an impressionist painter. The sun beaming in deepening blue heavens and falling through the thinning trees making shimmering pale shadows. The scent of earth and smoke drifting on the robust breeze.
I don’t know when I first loved this season. As a child I adored the heat and sun of summer, the escape from the confining walls of house and education. But I’ve always been enchanted by the refreshing cool of autumn, the calm of routine, the quiet of home after the rush of vacation.
This year has been one of change for me. As I gaze in the mirror of memory, I wonder at all that has passed these 12 months . I am no longer a college student, an English major, a college newspaper editor. So much that defined me is now reduced to a piece of paper packed in a cardboard box in the garage. And while I walk almost daily the grounds of my alma mater, I don’t know the faces I pass on the street.
But the trees are the same. And so is the wind. So the season returns, an ever changing constant. The year – God’s circular hourglass, ever tipping back and forth – recites the beauty of change and sings the glory of season.
Joy belongs to today, for it is almost gone.
Incandescent Ink 