From a laborless weekend of rest: wild wheat above a dry riverbed. enjoy!

more of some of the same, but again.

Autumn began with an evening of storms, was brought in with clouds and wind and lightning that started low in the sky to the east of downtown and spread its way over us and through us. It came before the rain and was surprising; I stood looking east through glass and wanted it, deep inside like you want for something missing even when you have it in your hands. It held its own music and needed none. And then came the rain, and the lightning became less like flashbulbs and more like fire, branching its way across the sky and lighting dim at the horizon. A wood chime blew below us and it was the music and the streets began to mirror the night black sky. We breathed it in and held it, and it held us for a time until the wind shifted and we left it for the inside. It came down through the chimney and beat on panes and still the lightning. The rain in sheets breathed pause and the movement then was only the shadow of dancing branches. It didn’t stop them from walking, or headlights from passing in cars making sounds more like waves than machines. The first day of new season at its conclusion; as promised in autumn the air is cool and hope is there.