No more lingering in the melon-colored dusk,
grazing late to the barn. The pasture is finished,
even the weeds only skeletons. Overnight, the
horses prefer barn-stored hay in the windbreak
of a south-facing barn. The light drops fast,
blood-splatter leaves in a green hedge. Pried from
my hand what I hold dear, instead wrapping my
arms over my chest, shoulders rounded to a truce.
“Come inside now, North Wind, burrow into
the weave of my flannel. Bring the dark with
you.” Best to make friends with those reckoning
for payment due, this summer like none before.
…
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
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Happy fall! Love your writing.
And to you,Sue. Thanks.
Heavy…shivering
Paid in full.
we are all brutally mortal. but there can be beauty there, too, I think.
Yes, such beauty. We barter for it. Thanks, Sandy. Love knowing you are out there.
Lovely. My favorite time of year! We feel life so much more urgently when more aware of death. One of the graces of aging.
Indeed. I am so aware of the preciousness. Thanks Therese
In addition to your lovely words, I am comforted to see there is a seasonal shift that has inspired my horse and his pasture pals to turn themselves in early from their grazing pasture, normally monitored and accessed for limited hours with a containing gate, to graze at a round bale instead.
They don’t lie, especially about food. Thanks, Dodie
The burn ban has been lifted on my tiny corner of the Pacific NorthWET. Soon leaves and fir boughs will crackle and perfume the air.
Happy Autumnal Equinox Anna!
I remember that smell… thanks, Sandy
I’m a pacific northwest gal now too, I’ve come to see the warm and moist autumn with all the resprouting grasses as a second spring. Juicy and sweet till the sudden reality of a November storm 🙂
Temperate… but a season change. Thanks, Shaste.