Having Something to Say, Saying It

The days are softer, slower, very much less real as Winter hints at itself in the crisp air between falling Autumn foliage and millions of Americans prepare for their six month depression. I can’t quite completely put my finger on it, but something is changing, and it’s not just the color of my backdrop. Maybe it’s a lack of squirrels, the muffled sounds of the school kids behind their scarves or the mysterious disappearance of the dogs that used to be walked here. Warmer times love dogs, I suppose, more than their owners.

I’m hoping for a zenith this coming season, a shining healthiness that five rounded meals a day and as much movement as I can manage between here and where my daily needs to be. Even as the roots of the trees clam up and prepare to hold eachother tight under a coming frost, I’m wondering if there’s a high point possible with the feelings that are stirring up, or if a medium point will have to do and play the part as best it can.

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