the last fine day
Listen to this post:
The world turns. Fallen leaves carpet wet grass. It is the last fine day of autumn and sun backlights the red and gold, the yellow and purple, chasing the greens away into wet earth. For a moment leaves ignite in fiery hues, fruits are jewelled with dewdrops, light floods the landscape.
The grey has not yet come.
Brilliant, but not truly scorching, now the sunlight weakens. Still just enough to fool us, without the breeze, that it is warm. We throw off scarves and gloves for the last fine day, hoping against hope that it might come again. We know it will not.
The cold has not yet come.
This shortening day races to its end. Sky painted orange to match the dying leaf, but still clear. No clouds on the last fine day of autumn. Time for a reckoning of what was sown and where we failed. Pray there is enough to last through the deep and endless dark. It waits patiently, stalking the world as it turns, inexorable as death.
Enjoy your last fine day.
Winter is sure to come.
