The Morning After

Sunshine peers through autumn leaves, gracing the frost covered grass with a rosy glow. Little frozen jewels sparkle in the sleeping garden, teasing the eye with a peek-a-boo game as I sip my steaming coffee and warm my hands on the mug

The mountain is white with snow today. It covers his once balding pate, like a cheerful old man with the pink blush on his cheeks from the rising sun. As if he too feels the nip of winter.

The river is cold and sluggish, whispering quietly with the passing of autumn rains, questing it’s chilly fingers into the sand, washing away the bare footprints of warmer days. It nudges rock sculptures and sand castles, toppling them into the frigid torrent, and smoothing their jagged edges.

Trees shiver and moan in their nakedness, as the cold sunshine seeks gently to massage their bones. Pines gaze hautily at the plight of maples who shed their garments to dance in the nude beneath winter snows, and of course the maples giggle and tease the stuffy evergreens who don’t know how to let their hair down.

chipmunks scuttle and chatter with the pressures of dwindling daylight, frantically raiding bird feeders and garden beds for the last of summer’s bounty. Scurrying about with their mouths full of seed, and scolding the passersby with a sharp rebuke for interrupting their foraging.

I sit here on a cold stone step sipping my brew, observing the morphing of the season, getting a frozen bum and chilly ears. The whispers and mutterings from the forest are echoing in my brain, and I can feel the shifting of time. Frost flowers bloom on the window panes and I stop to smell them as I stroll past…

They smell of cold comfort and change.

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