Monday, November 16, 2009

I don't have much to say about November in North Missouri other than that it's better than January but not near as good as some other months. Today it is cold, wet, gloomy and threatening snow. I am not fond of November. I prefer to remember other months, say August, in North Missouri.


In praise of morning, that unfolding of the day, August in North Missouri
has no equal. It is a grateful indrawn breath..our second wind..that marks the end of summer’s excess and whispers of autumn.

Some heavenly goddess, in draperies of gauze, has taken pity on us and
covered the sun with the skirt of her sheer garment, and the sun is less harsh. The
night is clear and still.

Fence corners and porch rails are held in place by the embroidered
structures of the spider people. Their artistry captures the night mist and turns it into jeweled beads to greet the morning sun.

It is a month of rest. What is to be born has been born. What is to be grown has grown.

With the serenity of a beloved grandparent the days of August guide us
toward change... and the beauty of autumn is conceived.

Whatever the harvest is.... or will is done.. Forgone in the fire and rains of summer....
and August is its epitaph.

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