Hello November with your wet slip clinging to the bare ankles of every naked maple, your sun-soaked garments all lost and your clouds wrapped around like a desperate garland, a hanging scarf of damp grey.
The mudroom room smells and I can’t find the source and I keep forgetting to put away the stacks of laundered clothes and the stove is sticky and needs scrubbing and it has been a long season of travel and I feel weak and uncertain and I’m light years behind in responding to e-mails that deserve words and Latin that needs marking and I miss the quiet warmth of my black blog dress and I know I’ve taken many wrong turns. November feels cold in my bones.
I go to the woods. This is wisest.
There is wisdom in trees, all clapping their hands in praise, unleaving themselves of worries.
I can hear Truth here, the way the water runs always lower, ever trusting.
Cousins all scatter and gather. Laughter in the woods lifts the hanging skirts of November.
They drop leaves like pooh-sticks, then run to the bridge to witness the finish line and the swirling, gentle abiding, the giving way to the way of the waters. My bones feel young and light and chuckle with happiness.
Today really is as simple as breathing and believing.
Today really is worthy of it’s own cheering! Celebrate!
I watch the girls lean over their own reflection and how everything comes to pass, a slow slipping away under the bridge.
The woods are heavy with the scent of summered memories. Their voices are so clear. Happy. Hopeful.
I curl around this moment like a fallen leaf.
Before I follow the cousins walking chattery up the hill and home, I linger on the bridge.
And watch the waters that keep streaming on, carrying small brilliant joys upon joys… a beauty all stacking.