Color My World

The other morning I sat listening to the clatter and hum of a train going by about a half mile away. I listened to the breeze whisper as it swirled cool around my bare feet. I watched purple-grey clouds scuttle across a deep blue sky, the remnants of a slivered moon just beginning to fade. The scent of good bean wound its way from my cup and up through the steam that circled my head, reminding me that the best part of waking up is taking a moment to appreciate a new day.

Ah, Autumn. I know you well. We are like kind. I was born to you. I was brought screaming into this world just before the last withered leaf let go of the tree to skitter and dance its final ballet.

I understand your grace and knowledge. I share the awareness that somethings have to die and fade in order for new things to come to life. Your colors are my colors - the deep cerulean of your sky, the ochre and crimson of your skirts, the gun-metal gray of your clouds, the deep sienna of your rain-drenched feet, and the startling evergreen that says, "Not everything must go."

You greet me with the sharp tenderness of a mother as I sigh in relief at the nearness of you. I revel before your dark eyes.

Oh, Autumn, my Autumn. Is it any wonder that seeing you come around the corner gives me a sense of coming home? After all, it is the sense of recognition I find in you that reawakens me, that makes me feel alive again.

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Thank you, Becky (who writes here) for suggesting the prompt, "The color of your thoughts..." Also, thank you John and Phyllis, who both suggested "seasons."