Warm is the color of my heart,
falling is the reason I’m alive;
time is love’s impatient hand of God—
(fleeting as my heart upon the ground)
the birth of death consumes me once again,
and all at once I’m lost and found in end…
My kids and I picked the first autumn leaves off the forest floor two days ago, and placed them in the center of the diningroom table. The sunlight hit them lastnight, and oh my…I could smell the woodsmoke and feel the chill and wool against my skin at once. It was beautiful.