Late summer fruits. Fluffy scavengers. Early rain. Lines hung full of washing. Making indoor fun. Heads full of curls. Quiet moments. Little seedlings poking their heads up through the soil. Waiting for produce to ripen. Siblings to hold, always. Adventuring outdoors. Roasting marshmallows over the fire. This is our autumn daze.

There was a Word

Before the seas were drawn

And the earth received her form

There was a Song

Whispered at the first dawn

And hidden in each lightning storm

Have you seen the trees,

that stood before my time and yours

Have you walked among them

and felt a peace beyond tomorrow 

Have you placed your hand against their bark

And remembered how to breathe

I like to think I’m a curious person. Or perhaps more accurately, I aspire to be a curious person. It’s not because I think curiosity is a moral category. It’s not a fruit of the Spirit. And yet I’m increasingly convinced it’s a trait I want to possess. And in possessing it, I’ll gain something good.