Moonbeam

 "You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."

Like some, she is not the type to revel in confrontation.

Mainly, she enjoys avoiding it altogether.

It's the lonely nagging of her soul

 that bothers her most of all; 

knowing that her opinions are not popular,

even among friends. 

Yet she cannot abandon 

the yearning of her heart.

The burden squeezes hot tears 

and all at once she cannot breathe. 

Restless and abandoned, she calls out to him 

as she sweeps spider webs 

from the porch light. 

She watches a small spider scurry away,

as a moonbeam slips through the clouds 

and tiptoes across her bed of pansies,

careful not to crush them.

He will find her there - 

in the night and all at once 

she will breathe again.

Of Chestnuts and Burning Leaves

I remember collecting chestnuts every Fall when I was a young girl. Their spiny, prickly burrs would lie in heaps on the ground beneath the spreading branches of the massive trees lining the neighborhood streets. My friends and I would scoop them up and carefully crack them open to find the glistening, deep-brown nut, flat on one side and oh, so smooth. I still recall how I loved to rub them between forefinger and thumb. I'm not sure what we did with them after that. I don't ever remember roasting them - but one could buy a small, brown bag of roasted chestnuts from vendors on the streets of New York City and sometimes along storefront sidewalks near my Long Island home.

On weekends, all over the neighborhood, homeowners raked leaves and burned them in metal trash cans with holes poked through them. 

The smokey aroma wafted through backyards, over small, moss covered ponds, 

creating halos around the heads of rosy-cheeked children racing bicycles down narrow, winding lanes. 

Autumn smelled delicious when I was a girl.

Many Autumns have come and gone since I was first enchanted by fallen chestnuts, 

but I am still captivated by her many gifts -- 

the chill in the air

pumpkins and apples

  the spread of crimson and gold against a crisp, blue sky

leaves swirling wildly along the breeze ahead of a cold front

 leather boots and sweaters and scarves

football on lazy, Sunday afternoons

wood burning in the fire pit surrounded by friends and family

hot toddies, spiced apple cider and yellow mums 

and more

Welcome dearest Fall! 

It's good to greet you once again.

Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.  ~ George Eliot