Falling

I love the way this season seeps into my soul. 
I always reject the first sign ... my ornery poplar dropping fully yellow leaves onto my lawn
before August slips into my backyard. 
But the increasing harvest of tomatoes, the gradual sweetening of carrots,
the crispening of the nights,
the warming of our bedroom as the rising sun reflects off the yellows of that same poplar tree,
the sounds of Canada geese practicing their take-offs along the river banks,
the unexpected call of sandhill cranes high above us as we enjoy supper on the deck,
the sights and sounds of students on the sidewalks of our neighborhoods;
they bring a richness of color and texture and flavor to life that makes me want to savor this season of change.

defining ourselves

I prefer to leave footprints in the sand rather than concrete,
   fleeting expressions across the faces of my children,
       a snapshot of my garden ...


experimenting with words,
 struggling to express beauty,
   wrestling with life,
     bearing witness