High overhead an Osprey gives no notice but now as we walk along the shore sycamores sing in a tenor voice as they respond to the ebb and flow of a weightier October wind. Gone is their murmur in the gentleness of a moist summer breeze. In a fight to remain on ever barer branches the rattle of their autumn dryness soon gives way to a silent pirouette as one, losing it’s hold, lands quietly at my feet. The sun slowly warms the the day and the last intrepid dragonflies venture out in search of smaller “others” that have also awakened.
Thanks for stopping by.