In Late October...

In late October, birds still sing sweetly, despite the fading of light. They do so naturally and not on command. Unlike us they're not riddled with all the ragged symptoms of bitter doubting. In late October, rain sometimes brings blessings that are unexpected, and the wind whispers eerie meanings that we have long forgotten, because we are lost in Time's mists and fixed to treadmills of days. In late October, the harvesting of apples brings colour and warmth to cold turnings of the year. In late October, I'm struck by subtle beauty, that doesn't seek to crassly advertise itself, but stirs the senses, like a rich, textured painting. In late October, lie scatterings of brown and gold- tinted displays that hint at rites and symbols. In late October, blood- red leaves are brimming with solemn parables, that Modernity attempts to hide. O Nature abounds with wisdom, if we take care to listen and perceive, unfettered by the endless din of distraction! When we wander along untrodden pathways towards verdant fields and ancient oak trees, we can absorb the silence that was once gifted to those who came before us. In late October, the bonfires begin and strange scents caress the air. It's a time to remember all that's passed away into the realm of shadows. And if I listen carefully in a dream- like glade, I can still hear echoes of loved ones voices, although they have moved on from this world of sorrows. In late October, mature Love unfolds like soft, unhurried prayers. Summertime's wild flings dissolve in sanctuaries of your true, inner goodness. In late October, a saint- like communion that connects Nature's wild, disparate elements, stifles the dreaded screaming of the witching hour. In late October, when the sun dies suddenly on fateful evenings, I am often reminded starkly of my own mortality, yet I can sense my little part within the great scheme of things.