I love fall. It is my favorite season and is always too short. Spring is next. Winter not far behind. And then summer. Still, I am not ready for fall. Today's dark grey, light rain in the mid 50s has left me feeling weary, heavy, achey, somber, and oddly warm (could be the long sleeve shirt, or my ABD laziness). And yet it is the perfect day for those things in life whose bright light is so small they stand out starkly and richly from the world. I am talking about glances, touches, sighs, the sensation of new socks. I am talking about cardinals and sunflowers, both of which seem to appear instantaneously out of thin air this time of year.
The cardinal has been chasing its mate around the yard the whole afternoon, non stop. From cedar to fence to feeder to fence to cedar to river birch to grass to fence. I've heard its quick chirps for hours now.
The sunflower kept bowing in the breeze that it was almost as if it was leaning down to me, like some curious giraffe, nosing in to my face then jumping back not sure of either of us in this one place at this one moment. Fleeting. That's what all this is. The sun slides behind the clouds again and the reflected pigments of the world dull. I am hungry for the way mashed potatoes fill the empty spaces inside of me.
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