I sit in dappled, end-of-summer sunlight.
Listening, for the wind has found its voice again.
Above my head it argues with the trees
about the proper placement of their leaves,
and whispers secrets in the ears
of those who take the time to hear
(such as: No one who lets himself to be touched
May hold himself aloof for long.)
And you are always touching, aren’t you?
Tugging on my sleeves, tousling my hair.
Impish cousin wind, always pushing and pulling,
You press me back into myself,
remind me I am no piece of paper
born to be battered by breezes.
Each moment, I take a part of you with me.
Until I am full of storms and the beginnings of long journeys.
Happy first-day-of-autumn everyone!
Camping this weekend for the first time in a very long time, just in time to welcome in my favorite time of year: the fall. Hopefully it won’t be too cold.
Photo by Diana Parkhouse on Unsplash