At this time of year when the light slams shut at the end of a day, summer and autumn are both here. Yesterday the wind came up as I was looking at a wild cherry tree that is home to much bird life near our house and for a few minutes all the leaves that had gone brown/yellow were blown to the ground. Leaving the tree with only its green and me with a reason to deny the coming of winter while supporting that season’s imminent flourish.
This morning’s grass gave me the same sense of the seasons sitting side by side, each at this time of year moving a little to one side while the other has its play. We all know winter will come – and I rejoice in that – but putting it off a bit seems like a good idea.
I’m enjoying the goldenrod, this morning I got very close to the dew on each of its petals. I am particularly grateful for getting close because as a child I remember my mother not being able to get near it, she was so allergic. I love the color and when I see it in the surrounding fields the brightness of it lifts my spirit.
There is old and new in each of us, we are made of many colors, many threads, many seasons to get where we are right now, and still we are new. Right now, forever.
The years hold us together
woven like twill undulating with daily browns
and greys making subtle the infrequent red,
the bright yellow, the hazy magenta.
Soft in our designer’s art we weave
the matrix we are, tie off our seams and send runners
out where new patterns are hoped for. I have pulled
a thread or two, cut a seam too thin and had to go
back, years later with new thread to patch it.
Once I threaded some bright orange wool, newly spun
into the old pattern and found a perfect match.
The blacks of years past melt into the present
soft grey like fields of heather and poppies.
We are intertwined, no form or color bears more
importance than the fabric of our bond.
Today seems a day for earth tones but I find myself
twirling strands of a deep vermillion in my hands.