october bloomed with these red flowers, as she always does.
there is a cinderella pumpkin in the back of the jeep, full of dreams and secret stories to be told.
i am thinking of campfires, nights under skies filled with stars and friends.
last night autumn showed up on the wind, blowing in with cooler air and falling leaves, scrubbing away the last of the last sticky warm summer air, and i thought at last. autumn. october. at last i understand you. suddenly i am ready, never mind that baseball is still here and being played. that first true wind of autumn changed my mind. all the fans in the house are off and i am even wearing socks.
this is why i draw my own map. new roads show up when i least expect them and demand exploration. this morning's road is birdless, quiet. skyecat is burrowed under art papers in a basket, recuperating from a cat fight last night. there is a bundle of twigs in a vase near the door, white candles gathered in an old egg basket. the backyard is polka dotted with mushrooms. last week i could not have drawn this road.
this past week has been filled with work and dreams. giant red hawks guarding my home, filling the trees, silent, still. my mother again. she shows up all the time, but the hawks are new dream creatures. perhaps i felt autumn coming. perhaps i knew these flowers would bloom. today looms small and wonderful in front of me. breakfast. laundry. a bit of housecleaning. dark chocolate. i promised my aunt i would visit; she wants an old painting of mine, and i said yes.
it's october. the magic begins.
again and always.
magic understands baby steps.