Autumning

We’re right smack-dab in the midst of one of my (four) favorite seasons of the year. Oh-so much more alive and alert than in months preceding. The world’s turned technicolor and hypersaturated. Contrasts are just a little sharper. Sunrises and sunsets almost gaudy with exaggeration. Tear jerking operas performed across the heavens. Autumning deserves the hype. Every ounce. Every singalong song. Every postcard and scented candle and fuzzy sweater. Today I offer you a scrapbook ode to autumning, like a jumble of windblown fall foliage floating on Lake Champlain’s surface like a morning meditation. What do you see?

September
subsiding
from august
into autumn, 
autumning.
(Source: Misty Sundown)

—//—

September Twangs: haiku
Early morning light
in mid-late, late September
twangs like a banjo.
(Source: Autumn Twangs) 

—//—

—//—

After the mesmerizing months —
sultry summer’s soporific thrum,
bountiful blossoms, decadent harvest —
Octobering is a reminder
of all that is real and important.
Clarity redacts pomp and pageantry;
focus forges excess into path and plans.
(Source: Octobering)

—//—

Autumn Vibes: haiku
Early the ash turns,
now maples and blueberries,
succession of leaves.
(Source: Autumn Vibes) 

—//—

—//—

Autumning: haiku
Contented, hearthside,
contemplating afternoon,
crackles mesmerize. (Source: Persimmons & Seasonality)

—//—

Poetry is not dead… It drifts across the muggy morning. Wafts through autumning afternoons. A boathouse resuscitated. A rain-run meditation. Slowing. Down. Rebooting… (Source: Drizzly Day)

—//—