the death of summer

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fall slips in between the satin days

sliding hourly around sleeping summer

inching slowly sunward

strangling silently the warm light

splattering violent red

across silky skies

covering summer’s dying form

with delightful fragrances of decay

shimmering shivering

convulsing towards

Sleep

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Autumn Comes in the Night

Fall came in the night. I knew it before I even opened my eyes this morning in the change of bird song. I love the autumn. I love the warm, bright days bathed in golden sunshine and the chilly nights studded with sharp stars. I love the blaze of golden rod and the purple swathes of wild asters. I love the hues of changing leaves against the brilliant blue sky. I love the music of the crickets, who sing all day now, the firecrackers of grasshoppers beneath my feet and the last flutterings of butterflies. I love the nourishment autumn brings to my soul.

A Tree for All Seasons

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I read a quote once about standing in the same place and watching the seasons pass. It was by Monet, I believe, in reference to his many paintings of his water garden at Giverny. I wish I could find that quote again, as it has been very influential. I love choosing a tree or building and photographing it as it changes throughout the year.

I vaguely remember my father planting this short row of trees when I was a child.