Category: Autumn’s Song 2003

Even now, beneath skies deep with clouds
and a cold wind blowing, even now,
in the days of dwindling light, the Yes
provides reminders. The trees
may be nearly bare and the fields
stripped of vegetation, but look!
Here is a maple still holding its color,
a kiss-bright red to dispel the gloom. 
Go into the night believing.
You are supported, and loved.

The red-winged blackbirds are gone now,
having flown like the leaves from the trees
who stand bare behind the low blue creek,
raising their white limbs to the sky
as if in celebration of their freedom.
Except for the rustling of the breeze
through the bright oaks and the occasional
call of a crow, silence reigns, a portent
of the coming winter’s quiet. But before
the earth settles into dream, she dances
one more time, in jeweled colors lifted high,
like promises of beauty to come,
as she whirls toward winter,
toward another distant spring.

The leaves gather in a pool on the surface of the lake
as if to paint an image of the treetops from which they sailed.
The lake joins in. Above the golden gathering, it creates
ripples to mimic wind. Beneath, its waters are calm as earth.
Wherever we sail, the heart remembers home, our source,
our destination.

Some places make you feel as if
you had somehow been transported
to an alternate world. You can’t dream
in them. You can only stand face to face
with the color and texture and taste
of it all, its temperature on your skin,
your thoughts snatched up by the wonder
that such a place could even be.
This was one of those places.
But I knew it was real and I was in it,
my son beside me, both of us loving
this sliver of reality that’s somehow slid
outside of time.

I walk the hillside gathering twigs
that I will use as tinder for fires
on cold nights, an autumn custom
that I began a couple decades ago.
The air carries the fragrance
of fallen leaves and coming rain.
For one brief moment, the sun
breaks through the layers of cloud
and I turn to see it kiss the treetops
as they dance, tall and bright,
against the charcoal sky.
I add the moment to my twig bin
along with a fallen gold leaf.
Remind me, I say to it,
the next time that I touch you,
of this warm and shining day
when I saw the sun brushing
the mid-October leaves
and watched them shimmer
in its light.

It matters, I believe, that we remember
these moments of beauty, that we impress
them into our souls. And not only the sight
of them and their fragrance and sounds,
but the way they touched a deeper truth
within us. And it is that which is important
for us to recall—the way they sang to us
of the Yes from which they arose,
and us with them, in a mystery surpassing
comprehension and beyond all time.

I’m writing this at night, and thunder is rolling through the sky. I’m one of those people who loves thunder, thanks to my mom and dad.

I grew up on the shores of Saginaw Bay in Michigan and our house had an enclosed sunporch that looked out over the water. Sometimes when it stormed at night, my parents would wake me from my sleep and tuck me between them on the sofa to watch lightning dance across the horizon ,and lighting up the waves. It was as good as 4^th of July fireworks, only cozier, a private show just for the three of us. I loved it.

I remember falling asleep to the fragrance and sound of rain on nights like that. And to this day, nighttime rain feels like a loving lullaby.

But tonight, I’m also thinking how blessed I am that the concussions that roll through the sky are thunder, and nothing more, that I can hear them without fear, that they are not rockets or bombs. It’s only an accident of birth that puts me here, out of harm’s way. I am not here, in this place of peace, because I am special in some way. Any of us could as easily be cowering at the sounds of sirens, or at the quivering of the air, as sitting comfortably in our homes.

And none of us can say, in today’s uncertain world, that the peace we enjoy today will endure.

But life has never been certain. None of us knows, when we wake in the morning, what our days will hold. That’s part of the wonder of it all.

A friend of mine, a woman I’ve known since childhood, posted on Faceboook that she turned on the news and was filled with dismay at all the turmoil in the world. “Nothing good is happening anywhere!” she said.

A couple people commented that they agreed. The world was in the proverbial hand-basket heading straight to hell.

Then a wise voice chimed in. “Plenty of good things are happening in the world,” the writer said. “People are getting married, having babies, dancing, enjoying sunsets and walks on the beach. Take your dog for a walk. Then you will be one of the good things that’s happening in the world right now.”

“Amen,” I thought. We can’t stop wars or weather. But we can be one of the good things that’s happening in the world. We can walk our dogs, hug our kids, sing our songs, or revel in the fragrance and sound of rain. We can tip the scale towards joy, and gratitude, and celebration. We can be the love that’s happening in the world right now.

And I kind of think that’s exactly what the world wants from us, and needs.

Let’s get out there and be scale-tippers. It’s the least we can do, don’t you agree?

Wishing you golden moments.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by Andrea from Pixabay}

Rain fell today. The last time
it rained, the maple was still green.
Then, day by day, the tree transformed
into a bouquet of crimson and scarlet
so vivid against the azure sky
that I couldn’t imagine a scene
more intense. But today it rained,
and I stood at the window stunned
and staring in awe at the wet limbs
and polished leaves, streaming
their colors across the day as if
it was the first day that color
ever touched the world.

This is what the trees live for, these golden days
when their leaves show the colors of their souls,
when they can bestow their final blessings
and sing the season’s triumphant hoorah.
These days, when the October sunshine
rolls through their branches and down
the hill, setting their hearts aflame.
These are the days they live for,
the days of magnificence
that crowns their work with joy.

For a few minutes, here and there, the blue
appeared between the low, thick clouds,
barely long enough for the sun to break through.
Nevertheless, the gold of the trees is so vivid
that, even if it’s not quite compensation
for all we have to carry as we go, it certainly
does encourage one, doesn’t it!