The Diminishing Warmth Light and Life of a Season

The Diminishing Warmth Light and Life of a Season

Precious warm weather time is slipping away, the seasons change no matter what we do or how much we pray

First fallen leaves float on the water, colors to match reflection and tree

Ducks still cruise and chatter circle the lake gathering wing strength

Big breasted ducks or long necked geese

Instinct tells them days are shorter

Nights are cooler, lake cruises numbered

Soon time to take to the sky of more southern confines

Each night flocks pass struggling to maintain a V > pointing to the warmth

A gaggle necklace reflected in the fading light

Season of visible change

Palpable in the wind shifts, air temperature, smell, colors, daylight and night

The wind shifts in direction, intensity and temperamental temperature

Cool warm raw cool clammy wet dry

The animals birds frogs last insects move with dogged determination

Preparation for what they instinctively know is on times horizon

The search for food shelter and for the insects their end with the last warm days

Bees wasps hornets search desperately for last pollen and a place to lie dormant in cold weather hibernation and suspended animation

Bumble bees found still where they last stopped on fall mums

Color on colors

Bare branch signs of beavers, the lakes ultimate worker, consistent in their persistence

The lake overflowing at the outlets from a day and night of rain

Washed clean are the rainbow of colors in the changing leaves

Trees having received the seasonal signal of time and a nights frost

Today dawns bright both in wealth of sunshine and colors of the season

A cool to warm breeze blows a sweet fresh smell of clean air

Rain natures own air filter prepared today's scene with yesterdays drenching

The day has a new feel to it

That of potential and possibility

Not a clue what to do but with a knowledge that it is a gift from great spirit

A gift called the present

Opened in sunshine and clean air warm breeze and bright colors

Standing on a soft blanket of freshly fallen pine needles and not yet crispy leaves

All autumn blues washed away but for a cloudless sky

The present is a day in a realm of possibility

On a lake of no cares in a wetland of wonders