The Soul of Autumn

Last night was an evening of poetry and music, and melancholy reflections.

The coolness of the gentle rain brought a reminder that Summer here is quickly coming to an end, as witnessed by the full blooming of the fireweed, and the ripening berries on the bushes.

Autumn will soon arrive, in its splendor and glory, announcing its harvest with joy and beauty, as the fruit is ripe and ready to be plucked, and the withering leaves are carried away on gentle breezes.

This time of year has always stirred a restlessness in my soul, and it is particularly strong this year. I can’t explain it, nor do I understand it. But somehow, I found comfort and peace in the words of the following poem and song:

While I may remember (and sometimes miss) the days of my youth in the Spring, and the glory and strength of my Summer, I am contented in these days of my Autumn.

Winter will come soon enough, softly blanketing the earth with its silence, muffling the sounds and signs of life, and I will grow old and the spark of life will fade away in the fulfillment of promised rest and deep slumber.

But until then, I will be here, writing, and remembering.