As Sacramento summer draws to a close
I languish in every moment of sunlight.
The scent in the dry-heat-air changes, ever so slightly and then at a
moment’s notice autumn is knocking. She
is a force to be reckoned with; everything she touches eventually becomes dormant
or dies. She sets in motion the next
turn of the great wheel. I use the last of
the light to harvest summer vegetables, pick any fragrant and fickle fruit that
remain! Put the garden to bed; cover it with
the compost collected all summer long. I save
a small plot to plant those wintry vegetables that will sustain me until winter
has passed and spring knocks on our doors.
I look in the mirror and see sparkly
white strands pop out of my auburn hair.
As it fades into gray, my memories along with it. Antics of my ill-spent youth, ache of a lover
(lanky and long-gone), opportunities passed under the bridge of chance haunt me. If I had only knew then, what I know now. But then again, I wouldn’t have what I have: house & home, family, career, and the
autumn of my life to enjoy the fruits of my labor. The Sheer 80% of just showing up, putting
family first and somehow loving myself enough got me to where I am today.
If I look closely, my mirror reveals
crinkly lines at the sides of my eyes. Crow’s
feet as some might point out.
My eyesight, fading, I develop my
ability to see. I now see with
my heart center, my third eye and my intuitive mind. What colors, lights and dark spaces are
revealed to me? What metaphysical paths
un-noticed by the naked eye? Is it so
bad to be compared to the stalwart crow?
Bridge of Chance Bay Bridge |
My Womb, no longer can birth
children, menses long gone. Can she
birth new ideas? Does she finally have time to she always longed to create art, and poetry and
food? All solely to nourish the soul?
What does the death of my beloved summer
bring me?
If I look one more time in the mirror. Carefully, behind my smile, my laugh, the twinkle in my
eye, can I see what lies on the other side of the bridge of chance?