To sit in the yard on these damp Fall mornings is to rest in a shell at the bottom of a deep grey sea. Sounds are muffled, air is dripping, the view is dimly muted, aswirl with suspended drops of water. Opaque. Quiet. Queer.
A leaf, letting go, bouncing branch to branch, is a warbler passing through, filling up on bugs and berries.
A warbler is a leaf letting go.
Autumn is a mixture of brief hellos and long goodbyes, and beautiful for it.
If only there weren't so many mosquitoes.
