Autumn
Autumn
It is at this time of the year when my lonely heart longs for the solitude and desolation of autumn. When my skin yearns for the touch of the chilly northern wind on it’s surface, chilling me to the bone and biting the tip of my nose. My body has grown weary of the summer sun and wants only the cold and shady.
Sleepy summer days are for those who have somebody to love them. The picnics and kite flying; the swimming, games and sunbathing are for those creatures who do not thrive in isolation like me. They grow and prosper in the sun whilst I, wither and slowly die.
Only when the sky is overcast and the leaves start to turn to fire and fall, setting the dying grass aflame and my heart, do I venture out and savor the steady pulse of the earth. Below my feet I can feel the drums and rhythm of the animals and Fae that have ventured below ground the rest until the next spring. The surface world is mine.
The wind blows gently but harshly past my ear and whispers tales to me, secrets of the earth magick. I am comforted by these words.
The water grows cold, the sky turns grey, the trees shed their leaves and the grass and flowers die. The wind is cold, the sun is dead. But my heart lives and beats in my chest. My mind is sharpened by the autumn breezes. And my love has returned.
Sleepy summer days are for those who have somebody to love them. The picnics and kite flying; the swimming, games and sunbathing are for those creatures who do not thrive in isolation like me. They grow and prosper in the sun whilst I, wither and slowly die.
Only when the sky is overcast and the leaves start to turn to fire and fall, setting the dying grass aflame and my heart, do I venture out and savor the steady pulse of the earth. Below my feet I can feel the drums and rhythm of the animals and Fae that have ventured below ground the rest until the next spring. The surface world is mine.
The wind blows gently but harshly past my ear and whispers tales to me, secrets of the earth magick. I am comforted by these words.
The water grows cold, the sky turns grey, the trees shed their leaves and the grass and flowers die. The wind is cold, the sun is dead. But my heart lives and beats in my chest. My mind is sharpened by the autumn breezes. And my love has returned.