Thursday October 16th, 2025 A 2020 Reposted Post

 Binaakwii-Giizis (October) Falling Leaves Moon

A 2020 Reposted Post

 

As first light twinkles through the woodland boughs...

   Just as first light twinkles through the woodland boughs, a breeze arises in the tops of the trees whose yellow-orange leaves remain there for numbered hours. It stirs the dew from its perch atop their fallen moistened brethren who had bivouacked overnight in the lee of hummocks and stalks of dying sunflower plants whose bird-pecked faces and withered heads bowed in solemnity.

   Armies of robins, their scores scavaging the Irish-green yard for their wily prey, the earth worm, stop and listen in cadence at their tunnel doors, whose projections from the surface thwart smooth travel on my wonderful riding mower, and jackhammers my skeleton into nodules of bony bits and stiffness once I arise.

   If not for the boat trailer tire inner tube I careen upon, and the steering wheel I grip tightly to lift my behind from its seat, I’d hire "Micro Sitas" to mow my estate, just to save myself from further punishment. In the meantime I will praise the valiant effort by robins and northern flickers to remedy my discomfort and improve my lawn as they can.

   The sun arises above the trees! I am forced to cast my eyes downward; the birds begin singing. There’s nary another sound beyond wind in the trees I can hear. I am overjoyed that I live another day, and think to give thanks to whatever life force ‘out there’ who has enabled it so.

   A lone goose calls plaintively in the north. Clouds mask the sun. Humankind awakens far off. I think sound suppressing mufflers ought to be the law, but I won’t dwell on it today.

   The yard glistens in the sunlight; against a grassy mulched-leaf background my lily-white pinkish ankle fairly shrieks its existence, looking like ell-shaped refuse that someone carelessly dropped. Alas, I should have thought to put on socks.

   Nature is such a draw for me that I’ve long prefered natural light over artificial light. It sets moods, inspires my imagination, and re-energizes me to set my penpoint to paper again. I’ve been long away from the sunlight, although I’ve been outdoors almost every day in this wondrous late-September of 2020.

Pond afire with Stalks and Leaves

 

   Not everyone sees this year positively, but to dwell on our global circumstances here - now, would be as a storm front to move in and cover this morning’s sun; it has not. I will not fail to appreciate this morning.

   To think of sun-rise mornings past: perhaps as you’ve leaned against a barn door jamb with the smell of silage and cattle around you. The sun striking your face for that moment in time those many years ago. You can easily see yourself there.

   Or upon a sailboat on the Atlantic, the ocean heaving up against the soles of your shoes. The boom glistening with moisture; sail luffing; your horizon all around you of water and sky.

 

   Those many mornings in traffic, on your way to work, the sun glaring through the windshield; you just want to be somewhere else in it.

 

    Or looking across a vast city-scape as the sun creates shadows from darkness, reflections from glass-walled buildings and moving vehicles. Glowing geysers of steam writh from roof vents.

    Aye, but here for today the sun is upon my face. I hear the birds trilling from the trees and creek grasses. Robins hop about the yard, chirping. The wind rises and falls in voluminous gusts, a single leaf spirals to the ground.