Monday

Winking Gold


Our great oaks have loosened the last of the russets into air and onto the ground while the deeper valleys wink gold alongside rivers and creeks.  And the ever compassionate willows are still yet holding green among suddenly silvered trees.

These late fall days have been mostly about fog and a strangely warmish rain until today. Colder, but gentle this rain;  a consolation despite lingering confusions of the turned-back clock, despite anniversary confusions of both births and deaths.

This rain has becomes more insistent, less gentle, as morning turns into noon.  By this insistence I am saved.  By this indifference I am restored. In this watery earth magic I swim free of clocks, anniversaries and the never ending confusions of modern life.

So how am I this rainy day in these blue ridged mountains of Bethel?  Smiling.