Seasons in Change

by Cervantes A. Magaña
(San Diego, CA. U.S.A)

The warmth at my back seems a little less today. The leaves seem to crunch just a little more each day. The days a bit shorter, the nights have grown long. This has always been a season of which I danced most and let short hair grow long.
The pain and loss, it has seemed to pick up and go away, at least for today, I do hope it stays away. She was my beacon of light through any tussle at sea, beyond the flickering candle in its lantern held by me. Beyond the twirling of light pulling ships toward the beach. It was that fire inside, if it was anything, it meant just everything to me.
I lift the glass with its noxious depreciation, less today and from all the days on. Like the sun setting down. Like the smoldering coals glow. It is all beneath me, it was all destined to go. From the absence of summer, the earth has gone from an ebb to its flow. At least it has for me, I cannot speak for the golden lit leaves as they fall from their trees.
The cool and silently still air blankets all God's creations, on earth, everywhere. The jackets are pulled over, the hands wrapped in warmth by glove. I am wishing I was as weightless as the fireside smoke that ascends to the heavens above. Like the birds in the open skies flying south to their new found home. I often feel as electric yet grey as the clouds gathering over the giant Adirondacks above.
If you are lost in the dark, sit in silence and you may see, the spark in the heavens, a crack of dawn's light might be seen. To us it's not granted, the future never is. I welcome the winter and the sleeping of bears, if we could just learn from the giants as they lay in cave without cares. I tell myself this each and every day. I even yelled out; I'm in love with the trees!!! It was just me and the day none else around judging me.
From the glowing light of night flies to the bees in their hives, you aren't granted tomorrow, only now, it's your day.