By: EarlB, 11:39 PM GMT on September 28, 2012
I saw it coming
A week before it arrived.
There was a quiet presence about it:
Murderous crows called
From steps away
But sounded miles off,
Stars shone in darker skies,
The brown leaves of the corn
Hung silently like the arms
Of forlorn souls.
The calendar caught up
And Autumn arrived
Right on time.
From deep in the woods
And from the comfort of deep leafy duff,
In the morning's light
The heavy dew looked like frost.
But, that will come on it's own, and soon enough.
Orion is in the east
And I'm in heaven.
By: EarlB, 11:59 AM GMT on September 09, 2012
My dear Zoe,
It is starting to look like Summer is leaving us, it is still
warm, but every now and again we have a deliciously cool morning
with the temperature flirting with the 50's!
The corn on the farm has turned almost completely brown, I've
seen other farms where the corn is being harvested, so, it won't
be very long until I'll be able to see all of the way to the
road again (but worse, the people on the road will be able to see
all the way to me! ha ha). I was working outside this afternoon,
and I heard a rattling sound made by the dry corn leaves. When the
wind blew, it sounded like heavy rain falling on a metal roof (if
you were listening on the outside of the roof, not under it).
Then, when I was walking to the road to get the mail from the
mailbox, I was overtaken by a sweet smell which I can only describe
as corn perfume. I didn't remember that the drying kernels had such
a nice smell, but then memories of working on Mr. Wiggins' farm
came back to me: forty year-old memories they were, of tobacco
harvests, animals in the fore-bay and of corn being milled for feed
with the molasses sweetener.
And then, still heading toward the mailbox, I came across the
feathers that I've put into the envelope for you. They are wild
turkey feathers that look like they may have come from the breast
area. The base if each feather is downy, so soft. Did you notice
what pretty colors you can see on the tip of one of the feathers?
Like an opal, the colors change as you move the feather in the
sunlight. Even the wild birds wear jewelry!
A small miracle is that color, but so were the aroma (and memories)
and the leaf-sound of rain that I heard on the short walk. It turns
out miracles are everywhere, I guess. It's our responsibility to
recognize them when they pass in front of us.
It has started to rain, and now I get to hear the rain from under
the metal roof, so, I guess my day is complete, it has come full
May all your days be complete, too.
Updated: 10:47 AM GMT on September 23, 2012