I
Bright burnt-orange and yellow leaves swirl off stories-high maple trees.
Some race upwards as others billow wide on a playful breeze.
Like children released at recess, the leaves seem set to begin a new journey. Summer days and nights in moonlit trees have passed.
Peerless blue sunny sky, the ephemera of autumn.
II
The sun has set but radiant light lingers about the tops of the trees. Red-orange canopy doing a slow cha-cha in the evening breeze.
From my ground level office, I can see the changing garden. No killing frost yet. Roots that steady and sink deep. Still-luminous Zinnias, gold and red.
Agastache, licorice scented stems and leaves sag, laden with berry pink flowers.
A perfectly timed V-formation of geese passes through.
High in the sky, the maple dresses for autumn as the garden mellows into rich color.
As above, so below.
III
An afternoon walk in a suburban neighborhood. Halloween bling every few houses.
A mild breeze, temps in the 70’s, and color on the trees the likes of which have not been seen for years.
Walking the dogs, we scuttle with dry but still colorful leaves down the street.
The perfection is timeless, seamlessness between self and sky that renders human transparent.
These are the moments for which we take on skin—to see and sense with no understanding, no cause or conclusion, nothing but the transitory joy that Is.
Shouldn't...but Do 