The Cascade of Autumn

Do you see that green glowing light? It shimmered through the hemlock tree that day.

Everything is changing. This time of year is about shifting. The days are not as long anymore. I've been feeling cold at night. The light is different.

Wandering outside there are signs everywhere that the other living creatures and plants know. The tips of the trees are turning color. The ground ivy is starting to die. The air has a slight edge to it, that crisp bite of the apple, that smell of fire on the air.

Almost everyday I hear geese announcing their journey. Which one among them decided to be so vocal about voyaging? Maybe they wanted to let others know that winter was on the way. Whatever the reason, I've grown to associate their calls with blankets and sweaters, and that almost aching feeling of loss. What I mean is the reality that faces me each September in this part of the world; that the world as I know it will die and sleep, and I will be forced to go inwards again. The deep. The old magic. The caves.

I love it really. This liminal time, and the realm of winter. It also destroys me. I can't, however, leave this place. Its too much a part of who I am. A part of what I've known before I knew that I did. The cycles are rooted in the development of myself as a person. and so I start rustling through the bins. Pulling out the sweaters. Making sure I am stocked up on tea, medicine, and supplements for optimal mental health. (Vitamin D, and light therapy, we shall see how you may help me yet).

The one truth I can depend on? The sun. The glowing sun, he'll be there, no matter how gray the day. No matter how short the time. And September is laid out before me, a golden, glistening carpet of pure undeniable magic.

I step forward into that waning light. What lessons will I learn this time, in this gossamer world?