Autumn sprinkles morning with soft orange light; dainty golden dust shines on every plant and blade. It knows no calendar...winters are long here and it needs to get its show on the road before the snow flies all too soon.
The dusty glow clings to cottonwood leaves, curls up inside, and leaves them fading tender yellow just before they turn loose of the sky and fall. You can smell them on the wind, that elusive fragrance of fall, like potatoes cooking in a country kitchen, calling, who knows where or why.
An hour after daybreak it's all gone, that delicate hue of dawn, replaced by the hard bright of midday. Then the morning glories take up the call and try to out blue the sky before they furl their nautilus curls and fall silent until another day.
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6 comments:
Lovely. I can see it through your eyes. Mom
Between your words and the pictures, I can almost smell the blossoms.
I love your commenters :)
This was lovely.
Oh. And did I mention that this post is pure poetry?
Have you noticed all of the monarch butterflies on the flowers? My zinnias have two or three monarchs getting the last of the pollen before the cold.
Mom, thanks, it sure was pretty. Love you
Rev. Paul, thanks, it was a nice morning...such rich colors!
Cathy, thank you so much, and thanks for the share too.
Carol, I have only seen maybe three or four, but we have had a lot of other butterflies. I couldn't believe the purples and swallowtails I saw up in the field, and lots of checkerspots and cabbage whites and such. Very nice.
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