“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

9.30.2015

september's end


autumn wakes me earlier than i wish it would.

september's end is crunchy underfoot, though still warm, the summer gone without a proper goodbye. i open the house to the morning light and streaks of cardinal, sounds of sparrow.  i feed the cat, turn on the sound of cellos. there are ballerinas on the television, twirling in silence. outside, a small autumn breeze tries its wings, learning to fly, whooshing small leaves from the trees. the sun is the color of what will be.

i am writing again, in tiny sentences, baby verses, scared of the truth, but owning nothing else.
trying my own wings again.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10 comments:

  1. I can so picture that morning scene. I feel you warming up to some words.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I've been feeling them for a while - I figure they'll show up by Christmas. Wrapped like a big present. Fingers crossed! xoxo

      Delete
  2. oooh...to be here again with you. Such a sweet scene. ready to read you. Fly on Sister !!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am missing September already, October will arrive with wings of grey. But I'm so glad to see your words, hear your always beautiful truths.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh. October already, just minutes away. How did that happen?

      Delete
  4. Such a beautiful description of your morning scene. I'm glad that you are writing again.

    ReplyDelete
  5. mmmmmmm...love these words! :)

    ReplyDelete

come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .