Autumn Nights
the words rest dammed somewhere upstream with their diligent caretaker, so instead I'll convene with the mother and transcribe as she answers through the cricket chirps and treefrog trills golden summer's days begin to struggle against the hold of autumn's nights, now is a time of lulling expectation, an in-between time just before the harvest the joro spider's failed capture is caught in relief by the same flood light that gave it a chance at the moth. I wonder idly which of the three I am and decide I prefer the romanticism of frog-song. just like the spider's failure, the loveliness of my hometown is highlighted strikingly by my overwhelming desire to be anywhere else - I envy the moth. Arachne's got nothing on small bible-belt towns. whole-hearted like-letters consume me like the season-shifting day, an inverted perspective turns a 9 to 5 into a means to a different kind of end visions of corn maze pursuits come unbidden to my mind's eye, I can't tell if I'm chasing or being chased. I can't remember the last time I paid this much attention to beauty, my soul swells in appreciation somewhere far away the caretaker's efforts are thwarted as the words begin to trickle and splash across forgotten paths