Anticipation
It’s just beyond the next mist shrouded pasture where horses stand steaming, and the morning sun struggles to melt the almost-not-there frost lurking in the shadow of the trees. It’s in the evenings finally cool enough to live without the constant drone of the air conditioner. It’s in the first tentative flecks of color, like a shy child self-consciously showing her first watercolor painting – a leaf here, a branch there. It’s the herald of the glorious few days which I wouldn’t live out anywhere but the Berkshires. I’ve taken refuge inside from the muggy thunderstorms of summer and I’ll endure inside after the fall of the last sad brown leaf marks the passing of my beautiful autumn. Soon enough will begin the endless reign of winter-death, burying the world beneath a coldly silent shroud of snow. For these few days, let my ears hear the crunch of the leaves underfoot, let my eyes drink in the unmatched palette of the Master Painter, let my heart try in vain to find words to express the wordless.
the land will sing
when the clouds arrive
to live in an october blue sky
and look over the winding roads
all lined with autumn tree colors
and blanketed with their leaves
yes i know the beauty
i feel the seasons in my heart
and the fall
my haven will last as long as i
and longer still.
Aug 4, 2004