This sapling grows out of an old concrete pipe in my backyard and every year it offers a glorious reminder of the revolving seasons. Living in a place where seasons mark the wilderness leaves me sensitive to the passage of time. I wonder if in climes where changes are more subtle, the inhabitants feel suspended, timeless, the days stretching onward without end.
I love blankets of blue, moonlit snow, the contrast of newly unfurled leaves against the black, rain-soaked bark of Oregon. And I’m always ravenous for the summer’s return of the sun. But autumn, in the northern states where I’ve always lived, is a time of great beauty, a time for road trips for the sole purpose of watching the leaves die.
I don’t mean to sound morbid – after all spring’s rebirth is the promise dormant in autumn’s retreat. But there’s something poignant about these revolutions, a reminder to me that my time is indeed limited and not to be wasted.
A couple years ago, I dreamed this poem. I offer it up again, word for word, as it came to me in my sleep.
If I drive off the road and am charged with driving offences I’ll have my defence quote the words of this piece and I’m bound to get off! (Not condoning poor driving but) lovely poem D, wish I had such dreams 🙂
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Thanks for reading, Phil. Sometimes the forest is so beautiful I worry about driving off the winding roads! I don’t know if it will get you out of a ticket, but you can try it!! 🙂
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I love this! I was just thinking… it is going to be October again before you know it. And then I read your last year’s post on October with the exact title I was thinking!
Great words!
xoxo
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I know…October. Again. Already! Thanks so much for the kind comment 🙂
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Wow! Beautiful words, stunning photo.
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Thanks Nicholas!
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