blowing dead leaves from the gutters
“To hear never-heard sounds,
To see never-seen colors and shapes,
To try to understand the imperceptible
Power pervading the world;
To fly and find pure ethereal substances
That are not of matter
But of that invisible soul pervading reality.
To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;
To be a lantern in the darkness
Or an umbrella in a stormy day;
To feel much more than know.
To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain;
To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon;
To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves;
To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets
Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching.
To be a smile on the face of a woman
And shine in her memory
As a moment saved without planning.”
― Dejan Stojanovic
couldn’t tell you the exact moment that change happened.
only know that it has been happening and hasn’t finished.
there is a sense of ritual and proportion that pervades this time of year.
prepare, prune, plant, remove, make room, hibernate
can’t be all that i desire. can only be as close to best as i can.
i felt a cold breeze accompanied by comfort.
this was familiar and primal
it is technicolor fading to sepia
it is work and it has worked this way for millenia
even for a blowhard like me