The Eternal Return of Autumn

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The eternal return

of the    ephemeral

autumn         ballet

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At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost

Rainer Maria Rilke

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all                  around

a shedding of leaves

my          green cloak

growing        heavier

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I notice that Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature

Friedrich Nietzsche

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Even decay is a form of transformation into other living things, part of the great rampage of becoming that is also unbecoming

Rebecca Solnit

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almost                        dark

listen                      –  in(g)

to the huddled whispers

of the forest              flock

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autumnal         portal

a suggestion of russet

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Above the roof of Ian Hamilton Finlay’s ‘Temple of Apollo’ at Jupiter Artland

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Flooding the fissures

of     the stone house

Liquid                 light

rippling            the air

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(Redux) When natural cycles turn, brutalist windows can dream of (autumn) trees…

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Now playing: Laura Cannell – ‘Born from the Soil’ from Beneath Swooping Talons.