There is this little house on the corner
where an old couple lives.
They tend to a rather beautiful garden
with fountains and a pond and flowerbeds
and lilac brush and such.
They sit there at a tiny card table
with a plastic flower drapecloth over it
and a cold sweaty iced-tea pitcher between them.
He reads the paper and glances up occasionally
while she watches the people
and the cars with people in them go by.
They look like old but hopeful Kool-Aid salesmen
of long ago summers.
hot and fluttery summertime
well – you can leave now
and so can your crashing storms
that bring the trees down
and light up my room at night
when i am dreaming of crunching leaves
beneath my boots . . .
i am SUCH a sweater grrrrl of gray and black and red and brown and tawny and earthy personable colors and depth. I cannot wait for Autumn and leaves and hot donuts and cider and pumpkins and cocoa and yes those boots especially that scrunch into the earth. Warm clothes and cool breeze.
i feel the shift and the cycle and the time for reflection and transformation, though i try to busy myself in the colors and the wonder of this change. i write better, i think deeper, i feel warmer, i concentrate on goals, i see things clearer.
September is my favorite. 9th month. 9 the number of completion in a cycle. 9 like magic and like cat tails and incantations. SEPT- for seven and -EMBER for fire. September used to be the 7th month in the old calendric cycle. And September has the 23rd, the first day of the Fall Equinox. Yummy — my spirit says bring it on. I am washing sweaters already.
who wants to rake leaves?
i want to bed down in them
and wear them in my hair.