The clouds are lazy this early autumn morn. They don't seem willing to push themselves past their mountain beds of blue. They are choosing not to skirt the skies today on the brisk winds, but rather are content to nestle into the shadowed valleys.
Everything seems slow and quiet in these wee hours...Are they trying to decide if they should untangle themselves from summer's warm nest, or fully grasp fall's splendid glory?
The crickets song is even softer and less assured...Corn tassels have turned to amber, waiting for their turn with the rusty, red farm equipment, to be stored away from the coming breezes and chill...
The last rose bud peeks it's perky face up for the tiny drops of dew, glowing with her find...
Only the Morning Glories still shout, "Summer, Summer!" , with their magenta, heliotrope and lily white faces turned towards the struggling sun...They have had almost their last warm dew bath...but do not let them know...The frost will come soon enough and shock them back into their earthly hiding places, where they will wait patiently for the next spring and summer to show their vibrant faces and twist their vines up towards the rising sun.
MVW 9/7/11 8:24 am
No comments:
Post a Comment