Fronds of green
Tickling the senses
Enjoying each dance in the wind
Not having a work day to begin
All is happening inside
Emitting winter scents to us
As a reminder of the time that’s come
Our own inward dance to occur in parallel of our work days
Fronds of green
Deep desire to explore the internal life
What happens when we don’t observe?
Life force energy
An ability to continue existence despite the harsh wind
An allowance to dance
I welcome the bleak month as it means I will likely journey inwards too
And allow myself to dance in the wind
Just like those fronds of green
With each breath, crisp fall air fills her lungs with decay and sorrow. She is sick. The plants are dying and the birds are migrating. Her body is preparing for the dark season.
The coming months will be without sunlight. The air will grow cold, eventually, bone chilling. She will do fine the first few months but the bleak will get to her in due time. The depression will take over but she cannot forget it will be cured again with sunlight and a warm embrace.
We exist in this cozy bed like bats in the night sending signals of desire. It is dark but we are blind with love. With no words, we snuggle closer.
She leans against a pylon in the empty train stop. Her hair is blowing in the breeze and the sounds of the rustling leaves fills her head. The season is changing.
She is not yet where she hoped to be in this new season. She is no where near where she wanted to be. Actually, she hasn’t tried to change at all.
A plane flies overhead and she can feel the rumble of the engine vibrating in her feet. She wants to run but she is paralyzed. Her feet are detached from her brain. Her toes are rooted through the cement beneath her feet, dug deep underground amongst the dirt, amongst the bugs.
A blown leaf catches on her foot. She looks down and moves her feet apart. She has been a barrier for herself. She doesn’t want to block anyone or anything else. The leaf loses grip and floats away with the wind, to continue its destiny.