A love letter to fall.
I felt the gentle hello of your presence while everyone was still laying out in the late summer air,
Gently guiding those last horseflies away from their bronze skin.
But I knew you were there.
I could feel you.
How you change the wind in a way I cannot quite describe in words.
In this moment,
I feel a hot exhale escape my lungs as I steady myself for what your presence means.
A sweet and gentle retreat before the hold of winter makes the weight of my bones feel immovable.
But let me not skip ahead and inexcusably tie you to the season of darkness that follows you.
That is unfair to you.
Once I feel you arrive,
My way of meeting you is to slowly walk through the yellow cedar and hemlocks to gather kindling,
Still warm enough to walk barefoot.
While kind and hopeful spring gets all the glory for her damp and fresh smell,
It is your scent that lives deep in my bones.
The musky auburn smell mixed with the shift to the northeast wind is one that I wish everyone could experience.
With my collected kindling,
I find a quiet spot beside the beloved Pacific Ocean and feel my feet on the still warm sand.
I dig my toes into its depth as I kneel to start the fire.
I feel the cool dampness envelop my toes as they dig in and I detect you yet again,
Rising to meet me.
Once you have arrived,
I feel you everywhere,
In every scent and sensation.
Oh,
How we all wish to live forever,
Especially in that warm summer sun.
This to me is your gift.
A reminder that we live in these fleeting scenes,
Moving from one bright moment to the next,
A momentary fullness of time.
A little death is coming.
A little death is coming,
You tell us,
With your wild and cautionary colors.
Store your warmth and pack away some seeds,
For now is no longer the time to plunge them into the closing earth.
You whisper permission for us to soften,
Surrender for now.
Another exhale comes.
This time the cool inhale reiterates what we already know is coming.
Can you allow yourself to yield to gravity,
To rest in my soft and crisp nest,
You ask us tenderly.
Allow me to hold you,
You tell us.
I hear your saccharine whisperings and give over to the sand glowing by our fire.
I allow every bit of myself to soften into the ground and let you hold me up,
Gently stroking my hair.
Your humidity dances gently on my skin as I fall into something that is not quite sleep.
You have arrived and I can soften.
You have arrived and I remember.
