September

The world stands attentively on the threshold of autumn. Though this future may seem ever beyond arms reach in regions where the sun's heat unrelentingly holds, the rhythmic momentum of its rising and setting assures of the promised change. It is a transformation that is not foreign to mankind, yet it is one that greets each perennial generation with new wonder and awe. Fall is a mixture of blissful surprise and eager expectation. Though now I sit by with longing for the season, one day soon, I will awake in ravished awe to the unbridled display of vibrance all around me. The metamorphosis is steady and unseen, but all the while actively intentional under the hand of the Divine. September is the month when this cocoon begins to blossom.

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I see Summer as she rises from the dew-covered grass of the morning where her voice mingled with the bubbling laughter of her companions. With nymphish nievity, she follows curiosity's urge to frolic through the vast expanse of the unexplored glens. She looks and listens, scampers and falls, all the while collecting gems of experience that masquerade themselves as the wayward twigs and flowers that playfully adorn her tresses. Walking in the pathway set by the setting Sun before her, Summer's steps are no longer playful, but purposed. Her stride has elongated with her limbs, and her eyes are piqued and inquisitive. The wind rustles through the still-green leaves and stirs her soul. She turns. Autumn stands before her, and extends his strong and tender hand. A flush of color slowly spreads through the forest boughs overhead. She smiles and accepts, and the two walk together to the tune of birdsong as their conversation mingles with the gentle mumblings of the river. With the setting sun, arbors shed their leaves to cover the earthen floor with a blanket that will nurture the birth of new sprouts of green life in the spring.