Seasons of Being (Part 2): Autumn

Autumn, she is melancholy. The wind in the trees is louder, the leaves gone and withered, leaving less privacy for the forest. They must share their secrets through roots now, but the one who roams the world with golden eyes can see beneath their canopies. As days get short and nights get long, she has less need for spoken word, drawing in the colors of summer and fall to savor until they come again. She ventures underground, speaking to the worms and bugs, asking the frogs if they’ve found good spots for hibernating. Alas! she cannot join, for this life requires her presence, and she makes do with blankets and early nights. How futile her fantasy burns, of resting her mind for a while, of long walks under the whispering trees, of making sure she has a safe place to hide. Is it a fit of folly to want to turn in with the earth as it all

Slows

Down?