The Trail of Time

Today, at November's last gasp in Ohio, we have rain instead of snow, and it is possible to dash out to the mailbox without a coat. The chrysanthemums have faded and the grass and the weeds have gone dormant, so the only reason to mow is to bag the leaves that continue to drop.

Where did the month go?

Toward the end of autumn, it might seem as if there is nothing in nature to buoy the spirit, but that is when haiku and art become all the more important.

It is easy to see the beauty in spring and summer, but the decay of late autumn is more challenging, unless we see, as Goethe said, with new eyes.

Then, if we are lucky, we may find a slide of water on the porch rail and see, reflected in it, the entire sky in all its hues.

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