It’s another grey and sleepy day with the rain alternating between mist and deluge with neither rhyme nor reason behind it.
And, it is a day I feel called upon to pray; to touch and acknowledge the Power of Creation as we approach the dark gate of winter and the stillness within.
And so I do, and it is good.
From the deepening green of the forest canopy, a bright green flash of green drops to the ground. A grass snake, delivered from the downpour and sheltering in the boughs of a tree, has chosen to seek another refuge from the weather. My eyes lose track of it in the shaggy grass and I am left wishing it safety in its quest.
My eyes travel back up to the trees and I see now green is edged and lined with brown, red, and gold. Spring’s verdant fire is withdrawing back into branches, back into trunks, back down to slumber in the earth. Summer’s flame burns brightly still on the dogwood; whose berries provide mast for squirrels and birds alike. Further along the bounds of the wood, staghorn sumac regally bears purple berries while yarrow heads sway golden in the wind. Autumn rides in, wet and wild, and I give thanks~
Thanks for the water,
Thanks for the trees,
Thanks for the dying and dancing leaves.
Thanks for the fruits of summer’s sun.
Thanks for the darkening days and their promise of rest,
Thanks to my Ancestors as they watch from the West.