Author: wapatangawilds

Out in the late Fall walking, leaves still dropping, feels like nature is talking, I find it calming to be surrounded by its colors, especially those fading, I find it invigorating to be in its cool air, I find I want to stop and just be there and then the time for falling snow comes again, and for a time leaves too are still falling.

As the sun is setting in my life, as the colors go dark, as the night grows cold, as I’m getting old, and there’s nothing I can do about it, something inside me wants to just shout it, I’m glad to have lived, and then as I find myself walking in skeletal Autumn, walking on old dry leaves, it stirs emotion, and I get the notion that I’m a walking skeleton moving through the remains of Summer, in the month of the dying grass moon, aware, like the seasons,  I will be gone all too soon.

Peaceful valley, I need you, now. Let your paths entice me, aspen and spruce surround me, ground uphold me, wind console, water stream by me, Fall inspire, let acceptance abide, peaceful valley, in your seclusion, for a time, let me hide

Cottonwood leaf, fallen, lying in the stream as if waiting, still summer, though September, the season of seeded sage, broomweed and asters, and I am waiting too, not waiting for anything in particular, just paused, later sunflowers shine in the setting sun, and for some reason they bring to my mind the idea of hope as the day is ending, but the trouble I have with hope, is that it is needed at all

Sitting on a high mountain boulder, still getting used to getting older, up here, even in August, the wind carries a chill, the view provides a thrill, sitting in a high mountain wilderness wildflower meadow, moose under the trees, flowers with bumble bees, oh my, what a show, you know, I don’t want to go, from up here, the sun warms my face, I feel so much a part of this place, it’s in me, used to be, I ran through these wilds freely, now I step carefully, today, sitting here in this beauty and peace I look around and can’t find my yesterday, can’t see my tomorrow, but feels like if I look far enough I can see all the way to my end, to a time when there is no more time to borrow, until then, I will, when I can, walk in the high mountain wild air, wishing I could just stay up there.

And so it is July, the sun, of course, is high in the sky, yesterday, to end June, to help me stay in tune, I walked on a path through a grassy foothills meadow full of wildflowers in bloom, it was cloudy then, and thunder sounded with a boom, and I do not know why but my mind turns to a childhood memory of hearing whippoorwills in the night, and seeing fireflies flickering bright, a delight, and I feel the passing of time, of life, like this path, it stretches backward, but I can move only forward, and in that there is a sadness, yet, also a gladness, to have lived life itself, dreams not kept on a shelf

There is a silence in the air, it greets my stare, it’s in the fog, it’s in the mist, it’s in the flowers, it’s in the hours, it’s here where I sit alone, on a mountain stone, it’s in every breath,  it’s in every tree, in everything I feel and see, there is a quiet in the color of a harebell, in colombine and lupine, and in the silence I find solace, until a  sound intrudes on the silent, rolling thunder, though it is distant

I sit in my wild forest chair, I just sit and stare, around me wildflowers bloom, before me a hummingbird hovers then leaves with a zoom, the water in a stream passes by, on its way to a far distant sea, and though I just sit, not moving from my seat, I realize, in the stream of time, I too am passing by

As I recline, in a cloud shadow, feeling a bit of melancholy, next to a prairie lupine, I seek, if it may to me in some way, speak, I reach out and touch the petals, feel the soft, sunshine comes out from behind the puffy clouds aloft, I touch the  leaves so green on which round drops of water sit now with shiny sheen, I hear meadowlarks sing and prairie dogs chatter, but from the lupine I hear nothing, yet sitting here I have found a little piece of peace of mind,  so it doesn’t matter