Seasonal Longings

Always around this time of year, I get the acute sense that time is passing far too quickly.  We only have a certain number of days left before once again we are shut inside, in a world of stale air and confinement.  Outside the window will be nothing green -- only white, or varying shades of black and brown.

I try to spend time outside, sitting in the sun and soaking in what life I can before everything turns cold, before the feeling of loss overwhelms me.  Like the pioneers scrambling to preserve food for winter, I'm trying to store up every bit of autumn I can to preserve my spirit through winter.

At work yesterday, at the library, I had 15 minutes for a break, and I decided that outside would be the best place to spend it.  This was the result.


The color outside the window beckons.
I obey, unquestioning.
Warmth and light wrap me in an autumn cocoon.

I sit in the sunshine and bask,
awareness and enjoyment
growing slowly.

A flash of fluffy red-brown
streaks through the trees,
nut securely held between sharp teeth.

Dusky-feathered shadows dart,
winging left and right
through tall constant green silence.

Mica-winged needlelike damselfly
exhibits spurts of whirring flight,
then stillness like stone.

Green-leaved stems of goldenrod
with heavy bronzed weatherbeaten heads
bow low in hopes of appeasing winter's fury.

Purple asters grow,
their rich color pearly in the sun
like the inside of an anemone shell.

Slick aspen leaves quiver, flutter, shimmer,
displaying more spangled elegance
than any couturier's model.

Low thick bushes grow
in cupcake shapes,
dotted with nonpareil berries.

Goldfinches flaunt their brilliance
against leafy darkness, their flight creating
bright gliding arcs of pure happiness.

Hold on, hold on. Don't go yet.
Ah, but "nothing gold can stay."
Wait, winter -- just a little while.