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Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Sing the Song of Fall

Fall has officially arrived, and for many in my neck of woods, that means getting the plumbing protected from freezing temps, getting the rest of the garden harvested and canned, and other pre-winter essentials taken care of. It also means visiting those places with blazing color, and cursing all the businesses that insist that this is the Christmas season.

It’s also a wonderful time for reflection, and I like to do that through poetry. Please join me for this little ditty I call

Sing the Song of Fall

A quiet time, a time to gather one’s strength,
            To prepare for that even more quiet time,
            When sleep comes to so many, the long
            Quiet sleep of winter.

A heart that beats with glory in spring, one that
            Beats with color and music through a long
            Hot summer, now slows, prepares for a long
            Quiet sleep of winter.

Few songs are sung to the grand scape of fall, so
            Many are so busy, preparing for the next,
            It’s fall when the next comes with joy, a long
            Quiet sleep of winter.

Blankets of color grace the pastoral, blood and sap
            Draw within, saving their strength for that
            Other, when cold shivers all limbs, for a long
            Quite sleep of winter.

Sing the song of fall, sing the song of making ready,
            When the pastoral is quiet to the soul, when
            We gather that sown, sleep warm, waiting for
            Our green awakening from a
                        Long Quiet Sleep of Winter.

We’ve been teased by those prognosticators of “the weather” with the possibility of a strong El NiƱo this winter, which if it happens, could mean the end of our prolonged drought here in northwestern Nevada. We won’t be doing much fall fishing since the rivers are empty, but those thoughts of a wet winter might bring spring fishing, and so, we’ll do a little rain dance to help it along.

Enjoy this autumn, an in-between sort of season. Winter is pretty much just that. Cold, wet, Jack Frost presiding. Spring is renewal, fresh growth, all good and warm and green, while summer is hot, filled with swimming and fishing and eating BBQ. But old man fall, he just kind of sits around, turning gorgeous colors, ambling between a few days of warmth, a couple of cold, maybe a touch of rain, then some frost. Just can’t make up its mind. Well, I just made up mine.
The end

Until next time, read good books and stay regular.

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Or Tweet with me, darlin’?

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