leaves

I can remember autumn-soft days from years gone by when the crispness in the air sent vigor through my nerves. Me, walking amid the slant-altered light and pre-crisp leaves – fallen – while others still held tenuously affixed to the brighter than blue bulletin board of sky. I remember the sense of deep Creator knowledge that embodied my visible breaths.

These days, my autumn view is far more likely to consist of four walls and several whiteboards, spelling lists and solitaire, dirty laundry and red-exed calendar boxes. But, every so often, even in my urban setting, when I am rounding a bend in the road on my marching band participant retrieval route, the light and colors will tenderly awe me, and I remember what it is like to be whole.