I feel the end of summer more acutely this year. It isn’t with sadness. That’s my response historically. Nor is it with romance toward the coming of fashionable scarf-wearing days and turning leaves. It feels more soul-deep than that. A resonance with where I am on my life cycle. A call from the base code that drives my instincts, saying it’s time to release the heavy weight of former blooms.
No, I’m not preparing for retirement. There are summer days ahead of me yet. But there is also a shift. A recognition of and compulsion to release that which no longer nourishes. A need to create space to allow sunlight to filter down more easily and rain to replenish roots.
There is a novel I’ve held on to, though it was written over a decade ago. I’ve decided to release it into the world this February, the month after the Color Series’ first round of publications is completed. It has been ready for years, but I wasn’t. Not sure that I am still, but here we go. It’s time to let it start its journey in the world.
There are more projects as well, as I organize and clear away that which grows heavier. Slowly, deliberately, I see light increase in the space around me. It’s reassuring. It leaves room for rich colors to come.
Welcome, autumn. I see you coming and I embrace you. I look forward to splashing through your vibrant leaves. Breathing in your crisp, clear air. Enjoying your light and comforts. Welcome.
Come Autumn, a poem
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