October 4, 2012

A day of summer, hot and breezy, still there is something about the trees, the limpness of their leaves, the gold cast to them all that signals fall creeping in, by stealth and time.  As many leaves as have fallen from the crepe myrtles you would think they would be bare by now but still you cannot much tell that they have lost several huge heaps of them.  You can push them out with the broom, or pick them up with the dustpan, it makes not one bit of difference, there are always more just waiting at the door to track in or blow in or otherwise enter and lie down on your tile.  And as they are the only ones losing leaves at the moment, this is just the start of the leaf migration.

Migrations, I've been thinking about the hummingbird migrations, and all the other birds that at this season begin to move to another place.  They live in two worlds, the summer and the winter, following the sun and softer climate, seeking out what is necessary for their life.  Some cold mornings I would like to move to a warmer climate, only to realize this is the climate people move to when they want to get away from months of snow and ice.  The few cold mornings we have are more than offset by the wonderful few days of spring and fall we have when the weather is perfect by anyone's standards. 

Autumn

The season of changing light
movement and longing
caught in shortening days
of sun moving
into a different house

hummingbird gluttons
preparing for the long flight
their bodies telling them
stock up for impossible distance
to another home

we would take the gold
offered on every branch
and buy another morning
of this light this tender touch
of air against our skin

when we know what
will come is bare dark
our visible breath
everything slowing to sleep
the ice-edged moon rising

S. Crowson

There is something poignant about fall, some breath of longing that come in no other season, almost like Janus' two faces, one looking back and one ahead.  We look back fondly to the heat and excitement of summer, even as we in small undisclosed portion of out minds look forward to slowing that accompanies winter, to the rest of its emptiness.  Here fall is a long time coming usually, and brief.  Perhaps that's why we treasure it so!