We've had no rain to speak of, since July.
An unheard of dry spell for this part of the country, so close to rainforest.
But the world has shifted, just a little.
Mist blankets the fields in the mornings, and the fog horns sound across the Strait.
Everywhere, the orb weavers' work outlined with dew.
Soon glistening gold with give way to grey.
A certain sadness at this changing of the seasons.
Meloncholy words yet with hope of what will lie still for but a while
Posted by: Gina | 10/12/2012 at 01:07 AM
I share your sentiments.
Posted by: Laura @ 52 FLEA | 10/13/2012 at 06:52 AM
this took my breath away. utterly. but i like to think of the soft grayness as an inspiring muse. coziness works better than sunshine for me. i feel tucked into my nest and ready to absorb wonder and savor time. the bare architecture of the trees i find to be every bit as lovely as when clothed with leaves. melancholy? a bit. but every bit of it delicious.
Posted by: jenni | 10/13/2012 at 08:38 PM