August

Oh my, I’m coming home. The planet has passed that point in space on our yearly traverse around our sun, where season change is noticeable. The light has a different quality and the world just feels different.

First leaf fall to walk upon, fruits to pick, the swifts have left with the Azores highs heat retreat back towards Africa, riding its warmth home for winter. I miss their black scythes screaming overhead, so short their stay with us. Fair winds and safe travels my summer friends.

There is a delicious scent that only autumn holds, hard to pin down in its earthy, spicy, sweetness. It makes me want to gather fruit and capture summer in jeweled jars of reds and purples, for winter toast.

I feel the pause, the urge to just stop and look. To hold this glorious shift of season in my mind. To see everything, every shade upon the leaves, each sunlit raindrop, every warm wind that whispers of change. Sigh, I am truly where I belong.