November 10th, 2013

caillebotte_man at his window

November Evening

At dusk, the golden leaves of the walnut tree now seem to be glowing from within, though I know it is only the sky's faded light they reflect. They will remain on the tree only a few days. Already the lawn is almost entirely covered by walnut leaves, but most of those have lost their ability to glow. They dry and darken and shrivel, and then crumble underfoot with loud crunches. Crossing the yard, I suddenly crave potato chips. How marvelous the commonplace is.

Autumn's vivid colors are lost in its long nights. Fireplace smoke scents the chilled night air, and the falling leaves continue to rustle even when there is no breeze. The canopy is opening for the swelling moon. The chirping insects have all gone, and silence frames a distant dog's bark. It's as though a stone fell into a pool and left no ripples. But this night my thoughts are the ripples. Years lap unseen shores, and I float, gazing skyward as stars emerge.

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