Autumn

The trees cry leftover tears of last night’s thunderstorm. Dripping onto the neighborhood with a subtle magnificence that invites the traveling sparks to settle down. If only for one night. Souls hide in the clouds that hover above houses. They search for home, and in that they are more of this world than the grown babies who pull into symmetrical driveways. Right on schedule.

Something in the air is leading everyone to love making. Bitterness departs with the misty breeze and once again bodies slide into place. Young again after all these years. The birds catch a glimpse as they soar over sidewalks. They leave for their summer escape slightly warmed by the brilliance that grows beneath the covers.

I watch for and with the stars from the window. I see the splendor drape over the distance like the patterned sheets you’ve been collecting. I view the glistening embraces light up the night and I know they are remembering me.

You prepare the small, sunlit room until it beams majestic and shimmering. Lilies plucked from the star studded skies. The white petals mysteriously milky. Your skin glowing and gleaming, I realize how fast you’re growing. We dance across the wood floors to whatever melodies our lungs can remember. Liberated in the richness of this moment, we forget whatever else is coming.

Memories from other worlds and other lives come to us as we watch the rain clouds roll away. Wet grass seeps through layers of wool and cotton until it reaches our skin and the earth is comforted into sleep by that closeness. The bees grow tired so late in the season and we watch them struggle for escape, captured to the point of inaction by the perfection of their trembling wings. The trees begin to close into themselves and the long months of dreaming that lay ahead. They leave us watercolor notes that maintain their shape against the grey concrete after the rain has smothered the pigment with kisses. The streets dip down on each side to hold these love letters as they fall to us. The slopes fill with folds of deep pinks and toasted yellows. Each leaf finds a place in the tilted dimensions and in doing so silently takes the hand of the men that formed this dream catching road. Somewhere far away they sense it and are overwhelmed with the urge to capture a heart. As I walk by, the tree releases two of her precious creations. Ever so calm.

The fireworks seem to impose themselves onto the starry blackness of the night. But the glittering sparks welcome this long lost brother into the depths of their darkness. They spin together, high above me and the place where I sit. I feel the damp night ground through my polka dot socks but the rest of me is against the thick wool blanket. Yellow lines swirl together with the woven creams and stand illuminated in the shadows of the hour. Knees slightly raised and feet flat against the ground. Back propped up by the palm of my right hand while I take slow sips of sweet red wine from the glass in my left. It’s odd to be back here. I’d forgotten the magic that lives in these streets.

My mind spins with the stories that I see in each inch of space. Everywhere I look is inspiration for a line that I cannot wait to write. The urge to scrawl across my very skin overcomes me at all times.

Standing before the mirror, I tilt the black hat across my left eye. I pin the length against the back of my neck and leave a few curls to play freely on my cheeks. My lips are stained a bright red and suddenly my face is alive. I sink into a chair and bend to lace up the heels. I look striking and lovely, and I know it. You walk around the tree lined streets thinking you aren’t spectacular. In that you teach me the importance of slight self indulgence. I plan to enjoy the beauty that I find in myself.

A few stubborn raindrops that are determined to maintain the bond between drop and leaf shimmer like pearls in the morning sunlight. The rays scan colors across my face then move on to dance through a different being. I’m tempted to bring my biggest bag, hoping to have something to take with me by the end of the day. But I see that you don’t need everything for forever. Sometimes living it once is more of a miracle than you ever could have known.

In every other home in every other place children are turning over, grateful for the extra hour of sleep. Fallen stars weave into one and drape over the couples that lay wrapped together. Limbs overlapping to the point of indistinction. Babies quiet their tears for a short moment as those souls sing them familiar pieces from the past.

I walk the streets despite the hour. I live these hours despite their certain ending. I anticipate this ending despite its losses. I cherish the losses for the room it now creates. For something more, for something greater, for something else. Honest eyes stay open, unafraid of the terms and implications. I vow to the blue above me to appreciate the richness of today.

Baruch she-asah li et haness hazos.