Watching the asphalt, lost in thought.
Automatically winding my way through the canopied landscape to work, sinking in plans, the weight heavy; not seeing, just moving.
Suddenly blown back, breath caught, time slowed, curve elongated, eyes opened.
A second stretched into a seemingly physical pause.
Like cold air to the lungs I woke up.
The trees were like glass, the sun rays palpable. The leaves fell slowly across my view, drifting gently to the ground.
A sense of peaceful melancholy was thick… an understanding sadness, a recognition of life’s complexity, a sense of purpose, or duty, to help the falling gently to the ground.
My mind was haunted with metaphor. The inevitable decay. The grace in falling. The beauty in a life well lived. An acceptance of difficulties. The need for gentle hands to guide unexpected descents. The hope of coming renewal. The recognition of the seasons of life. The determination to aid the process of rise and fall. The need to care for the falling leaves…
One at a time, reaching out for this one, then turning to let that one land safely on my palm; now another, and another, and another.
Taking them as they come.
Calmly, peacefully catching them as they fall, without distress or worry or questions. Just because it is. Because they are.
Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I pass myself down to my knees.
Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I fall through the willow trees, and I said.
Who will care for the falling?
Who will care for the falling… leaves?
Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands,
Tender, cool breeze, keeps me where I am.
Suddenly here, when I want to scream,
Autumn calms me down, keeps me in my dreams.
Keep on falling down, they keep on falling down,
Keep on falling down, keep on falling down.
-excerpt from Whispering, Alex Clare
Falling Leaves, pastel sketch
The fallen leaves are beautiful !