Falling

I’m falling into fall’s softness. Its embrace, tender and tinged with sadness. Last flowers like a parting kiss. I turn my face toward the sun; its light streaming through the canopy sets the forest aglow. A soothing rhythm of seasons swirls all around me. The world is a kaleidoscope of colour, continuously rearranged by weather’s every whim, every puff of air, every rain burst. I close my eyes and let the waves of gold, copper and fiery red wash right through me. The forest’s luscious garb now lies discarded on the ground, a crunchy carpet imbued with past dreams and promises of future growth.

Smooth orbs of raindrops balance on leaves and branches; each one contains a universe. I peer into these upside down worlds, they whisper back:
Tread lightly…

I’m falling into fall’s sharpness. Its crisp breath on early mornings; whiffs of winter drifting through the night. A boisterous stream at my feet, swollen after the recent rain. It pushes against its boundaries, washes away remnants of summer memories off my hiking boots. A few stragglers cling to branches up above, reluctant to leave their home, the only one they’ve ever known. I follow their slow waltz toward the stream, each move choreographed with expert precision. United with their upside down doubles, they float past me carrying away the last of this year’s warmth.

I bid farewell to these tiny boats caught in the water’s haste to escape the freeze about to constrict its movement. Naked branches poke the sky. The wind rushes through them, its song in my ear:
Breathe, be still, let go…