An Autumn Morning

         Geese honk unseen as they coral above a thick quilt of grey clouds, the urge to migrate stronger than gravity. Cobwebs are lightly misted with opals of dew and  the scent of humus decay, fermenting fallen fruit and smouldering garden bonfires lace the air. Early sun filters through the web of branches, laid increasingly bare by the strong gusts of wind, their tangled skeletal complications showing Mother Nature to be a master sculptor. Here and there a scattering of leaves still cling to the trees like golden coins, in suspense, waiting to join the party, abandoned by their brethren. The Fallen swirl in eddies of current, moving together then apart, sighing, a flock of starlings in motion, in communion with a greater power; lovers in the heat of passion. Here and there they lie in spent drifts, slumped, exhausted, damp, entwined, content to know they have given life and love their all, and in time the seasons will make their mark, revealing a new simplicity of beauty within, an intricate tracery of arteries and veins.
        A desire grows in me and I begin to drag my feet in lazy sideways arcs, pooling a collection of leaves, uncovering the green of the grass, the dark smears of worm casts beneath, until I have a mound of russet and gold and brown. I perform a salutation to the sun, the earth. It is deep and satisfying. I feel the energy, the connection with the season, gratitude grows within my wide embrace, then, clawing my fingers I pull my hands together catching the leaves in a great congregation. I lift them as joy blossoms at my centre and hurl them into the air, twirling arms outstretched, face to the heavens one word escaping my lips "confetti!" The riches fall from heaven in a whispered prayer and I receive an evangelical baptism of fiery leaves.