Wednesday, December 1, 2010

sometimes my dance with autumn

stanza 8

I look all about me on the misty, moisty, dew filled morning. The trees are covered with frosting, hanging heavy. I stop to be reminded, only November, still November. Sometimes my dance with autumn is more like a gliding, sliding, fairy ride skiing. On these days, I need often stop to do the math. Still November. Still autumn. Yes, each season has three months. There are four seasons. Still autumn. 

That excitement building makes me dream on the winter wonderland. I must block those visions of long, cold January. I must block those visions of sometimes smothering March. As I glide in this seeming winter wonderland, though still autumn, I embrace the beauty of the day.

I grasp hold of the magic. Vow never to let it slide away.

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stanza 3 
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Heather said...


winnsangels said...

Thanks Beautiful angel.

Trece said...

Lovely, word-stopping images!! How are you holding up? Thanks for all your sweet words over at Art Journaling. The family continues to make me nuts, but I persevere (and buy art supplies!).

Bo Mackison said...

Love your photos, love your words. I feel so connected when I read your blog.

essjay said...

beautiful, beautiful connections :)
we even seem to be sharing the weather this year ~ almost! ;)
you are such a wonderful wordsmith, dear Angel. one heart to another...

your words and images melt mine...

bless your beautiful heart xXx

Pearl Maple said...

Beautiful post Wendy
Happy New Year to you

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