Just As They Came

A rainy evening walk. A path in the woods by a lake.

Just words on paper. Just as they came:

Grace. Graceful living and dying. Acceptance. Quiet. Each true to its own nature.

The sound of rain on leaves. A tired sound. Late summer, early fall. A different sound, a variant drum. Does each leaf sound a different note according to its shape and size?

A Harmony. Cohesiveness. All are in tune and aware of coming winter. Aware of each other.

The shifts. Day/night, the angle of light.

The laurel. More glossy, thick, shiny. Recent rain? Water clings in oblong drops. Bubbles, irregular, rounded shapes. Spatters reflect the light, gray sky.

Gentle breeze, yellow leaves sprinkle like cherry blossoms.

Two older people walk the perimeter.

Spicebush red berries, river birch catkins. Moss and lichen.

The fallen leaves make shallow cups along the path. Hold rainwater. Reflect light like mirrors.

Soft steps. The ground moist. Dry dust tamped down.

Sounds. A cricket, a woodpecker. Rush hour traffic.

My foot hurts. Body shape. Gray hair. Lines.

Water level low. Mud exposed. Water striders.

Twirling leaves caught in web. Spider’s body and legs moving --

agile and purposeful as a weaver’s hands, a knitter’s needles.

The only frantic movement visible.

All is muted, colors, sounds.
Grays, blues, slate green, taupe, dove, sand.

Rotting wood, logs. Startle. A frog jumps.
Frogs singing, insects singing.
Light rain pinging on the surface of the water.
Rhythmic scribbles of light gray on dark. Ripple pattern.

Breeze like green breath.

ABC Wednesday