As sunset burns pink and red and orange

across a floating sky of sheepish clouds,

It heralds the darkness of the night itself.

The brilliance of the day has given me a joy of being

that slips away now with the setting sun.

Night comes and dimness falls upon the spirit.

Yet for a moment in that sunset,

the light becomes pure and magenta, so lovely.

It seems testimony enough that the day had value.

The Night gives birth to the blues.

The Night reminds us that all is changing,

How useless it seems to mourn this passing.

The bloom of youth fades.

The boundless energy of childhood play

becomes productive adult work.

So it is with autumn.

As the days grow shorter,

the winds blow colder.

The brilliant light of summer fades

and kindles the flames of burning colors

in the very leaves of time.

I cannot help but be struck by its beauty.

I leave until tomorrow that which is yet undone.

I gladly leave the planting to the Spring.

For Winter is now coming fast,

And Winter wants to kill us.

If Winter cannot kill us, it will slow us down.

We take the thrift of our days

And spend it getting through the night …

Getting through the Winter.

They are much the same, the Night and the Winter.

That same natural pattern of building and destruction

Is the theme of both.

It comes together in the Fall.

It comes together before the Night

To see it, I have only to look.

There is a balance in those autumn days.

There is a signal in those twilight moments.

Forget about the past and let the future be.

Let the now be incredible and lovely,

A laughing child is a bell to an undistracted mind,

I hear the music. I hear the bell. I feel the balance.

Tomorrow will carry joy for some and grief for others.

I know that well. The Winter will take us into Spring.

It is forever that way. In this I can find solace.

 

Photos by the author

 

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