Early August

It smells like autumn outside. The anxious excited feeling was in my hands when I woke up buried in the covers this morning. It is only early August but the wind brought cold clean air over night and the sunshine feels a little distant today. I am not ready for the summer to hint of leaving. Last winter was a long one.

Regardless, and although it is only early August, I could taste the bite of the harvest season in the air. How I love the fall. She is a dear friend and one I enjoy every year with overwhelmed senses and flooded emotions.

I was up early and played with my dog outside. The wind woman hummed unassumingly but I closed my eyes and listened with appraising ears. She laughed softly as she played with dust in cool sunlight and did not notice my attentive human focus.

Fall may come early this year. She will be wild with color from all the rain this last spring. The ache is here already; in my feet, in my hands, in my soul. But I am not restless this time, this feels more intense then simple anxiety. More of a deep calm resting at the surface of water as building life swirls underneath.

I feel aloof and gentle and still. Rocks may break my surface but they hardly touch the breathing deep below.

And then there is my sweetheart. Perhaps I am feeling a little detached from everything but not from my little family.