The blowing of a single autumn leaf

November 13 2005

My break from xanga/phusebox wasn't helping, and it was just frustrating me, so I'm back (very) early.

Today is beautiful outside.  It doesn't feel like it should be November.  It's warm but breezy and the air is delicate and clear.  The trees are their usual faded green and gold with sporadic bursts of red and orange.  The grass is dying and on the wind is the sweet stink of rotting leaves.  Life is winding down, quieting, waiting for the winter, even as it's still warm as the early summer.  It's so lovely - so quiet, with a contaious peacefulness.



I've decided I'm going to marry a painter or a piano player.