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September morning wind, sometimes warm,

sometimes chill, blows into my life,

that like the wind, never stays the same,

and I think I feel something in the wind,

I feel a change, I feel it in me,

I see it in the stare of a bear

First falling snow, bull moose, high mountain lake, Mayas pond, feeling a chill, suddenly winter, sitting still, alone, so far from the lands I went to so long ago, wishing I could be here, for first flakes falling, now here I am watching them fall, and my feeling is, though I feared regret, I am glad I followed that other call, even knowing being here now, was never close to certain

Observe and listen, blackbirds and cottonwood, cattails glisten,

leaves flutter in the breeze, light sparkles in the trees,

where I’ve come to enjoy the still, sit on a grassy hill,

it’s like there is color in the air, all around and everywhere, 

from valley shadow to hilltop willow, 

as far as can be seen, yellows and orange in the green

A moose reclines in a forest in a high mountain Spring, Marsh Marigolds in bloom, no hurry, no rush, no timetable, life with no agenda, following the seasons, not searching for reasons, flowing like the melting mountain snow, being what it is, no more, I sit and watch, a lesson to be learned lies waiting there, I see it, I hear it, will I receive it? Can I believe it, for me?

Mountain pines and paper birches, bubbling trickling stream, bounded on both sides by the last of winter’s un-melted snow, sunlight dapples the mountain forest floor, cooling breeze seems to sing a calming song, nature’s abundant life surrounds me, I sit on the earth, on a spot warmed by the sun, the hemlock’s soft green and flowing branches and tall thin trunks of paper birches, with seeming grace speak to my whole being, saying breathe deep, breathe slow, in this place, all alone, feel safe, be at peace. 

Flat rocks and ripples in a stream, prairie winds and willows, cottonwoods and creeks, butterflies and blooms, sunflowers and snakeroot white, September afternoon fades into September moon tranquility, crickets singing, covering clouds come, early morning raindrops, few, fat, in dark air, distant lightning flashes light the sky, treading on time in my mind, how long til I turn home, before September storm, thunder rumbling, cracking, rushes in

First of Fall and sunflower petals will soon be fading fast, along with flutterbys, if not already past, today is hot, tomorrow’s hope is it will not, storms over aging blooms and cottonwoods singing will bring a cooling wind, perhaps then, a morning chill, a desire to sit still, embrace the shift of seasons in the air, a longed for end to summer’s long stare

Fireweed blooms in the light of the sun, shines til day is done, then waits in the night, to shine again when touched by a new day’s rising light, it’s a fireweed in flight, later on, late in its’ season, it leaves turn fire red bright, at summer’s end, when Fall and long Winter are just around the bend. I am just like just like the fireweed in flight, shining in my day, waiting in my night. I shine in the light, I cry in the night. I know joy, I know pain, I know blue skies, I know rain. I have bloomed in the sun bright, I have faded dark in the night. Later on, late in my season, when it’s all coming to an end, when Fall and long Winter are just around life’s bend, I will take solace in that I lived life knowing how it felt to be a fireweed in flight.

Colorado snow, I just don’t know,

you got me spell bound, just watching you fall,

spinning round and round,

I find you like magic, fantastic,

flakes filling the air, sometimes I just sit and stare,

I can’t look away, from October to May.

Yesterday, I got to go up into a high mountain September snow, to be part of the first coat of white on the ground, first flakes drifting down, gave me a chill, gave me a thrill, not looking for reasons, I followed a path between three seasons, yesterday summer was gone, winter had come, even though Autumn was yet to fall.