The Sound of Seasons

Summit

At the height of this season, the world around me pauses in its fullness. The mute of winter, and the startle of spring, seem long gone. Now and here, in the cradle of heat that seems to slow the roll of the seasons, I steady. As I open my front door, I hear the roar of summer, and in the beautiful moment where I meet the heat, a pause grips me so, slowly I walk, uninterrupted by rush, free to be.

The closer I look around, the more awareness of sound, of life’s gestures marked on ground, of scents seeking to be found, abound in my internal landscape. As the summer within me awakens more and more, as my senses, into this world, continue to bore, I drop deeper into time. The slow luxury of summer sun, wrings something within me dry – clean – even as my body feels to be swimming in humidity.

As I turn once more, down another street, meeting again the rhythm of life attempted to be made neat, some fallen leaves grab me tight. In the morning light, at the height of this summer’s flight, their yellow shouts out a vision of the future. An oracle of the cycles, this street lined with trees losing their leaves, so early it seems, I question if dream. But the leaves stay on the many days I return; in the peace, presence, and pause of summer, I too welcome the fall, freeing me to feel the revolving of the forgotten wild anew.