Chilled breezes, like icy satin, awaken me from the vagaries,
That muddle one’s thoughts as sleep approaches.
Pungent aroma of smoky air drifting across sills, startles.
Zephyrs, wailing from the north, greet restless, rustling, leaf-maidens,
Who pirouette, in bejeweled dresses of ochre, rose, gold,
In their nocturnal rite of dance.
They whisper of mysteries to come, one, to the other, to the other,
While I listen, lulled, eavesdropping,
Watching southward heading birds trail black shadows, like ribbons,
Across a new Harvest Moon, blazing in the obsidian night.
All about is a sense of change, as daylight recedes earlier, earlier,
In obeisance to ancient rule.
Lighting candles, fireplace, and donning a soft gown,
I listen to the stirring music.
Slowly, I take my place in the primal movement.
With slippered feet soon retreating under a blanket of billowing down,
I harken in delight to the haunting melody of wild wind-flutes.
In reverie, wandering freely through time and place,
I step into a dream, a mystical, unfettered, autumnal dream,
And once again, in the freedom of nature and spirit,
Image: Fall in the Adirondacks. Wikimedia Commons photo.