Thursday, November 10, 2011

Falling from the Tree





                                                                     

 "How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.
                          
At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow."

Elsie N. Brady, LEAVES 

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Even though I enjoy all four seasons, fall is my most favorite.  Whether referred to as Autumn, Harvest, or Fall it is truly a time for Thanksgiving!  Fall offers nature's display of radiant colors, cooler weather, apples and apple cider, pumpkins and gourds, festivals ... the list is endless. 

Today, I breathe in the crisp fall air while I walk a trail, and listen to the leaves crunching beneath my feet.  Indeed, the leaves gather as though they are a radiant carpet of colors randomly sewn together.  The wind rips a few remaining leaves from the security of the branches and somehow this forced decent fills me with sadness.  As I watch the leaves free-fall, I admire their grace.

The wind increases, the temperatures drop, and I pull my scarf more tightly around my shoulders and neck.  Not many more days are left before winter will settle in bringing months of hibernation.  Already clocks have been set and darkness falls earlier, condensing the hours before I settle into bed.

All of the colors of fall will fade and slowly die away, and be replaced by the stark black and white of winter.  Coming forth will be heavy days laden with gray gloom.  When the snow blankets the earth, there will be an awesome silence dotted with red song birds and the trails of scampering animals. 

This year in particular, it is difficult to let fall slip away into winter.  Perhaps it is the realization that I, too, am slipping into my life's winter season.  I must be one of the colorful leaves still clutching at the branch, not yet ready to fall gracefully from the tree.










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