Waxing Poetic on Fall

Summer is a social gathering, a call to come out and play. Autumn is private…quiet…peaceful. She steels over the party, voice soft and firm. The noise and thrill of pool parties and baseball games and vacations melt beneath her touch, replaced by the secluded pleasure of reading a book by candlelight, keeping company with heroes and villains.

Summer exposes, with its cloudless skies and bright sunshine; autumn hides in the shadows of shortened days. Her weakened light casts a silent spell over the earth: a hush falling with the leaves, nature’s voices veiled to match the quieting landscape.

The sky feels her presence and turns cold. Humans take cover: tanned arms clothed in wool, summer sandaled-toes stuffed into slippers and boots. Crawling beneath warm blankets, they find a safe escape. Heads covered, chins tucked in close …they peek out at the world without the intrusion of the world peeking back.

Autumn sends out her invitation, a summons into the solitude of hibernation. She speaks with every cup of hot tea, every morning breath frozen in air, every step muffled by fallen leaves: “Slow down…Quiet each movement and thought and word…Hide away.”