Ascent

The turning of Summer affords a special freedom; one which is not found in the vast expanse of cloudless days and long evenings, but rather in the welcome release that comes with life's quiet rest. Autumn allows us to put away the frenzied activity of the past months and look instead to the slow peace that resides in rainy days and leafless trees (aided, of course, by hot fires, cups of tea, and the like). It is a measured freedom, but that does not keep it from being boundlessly liberating.


Ascent

Mist on the water, my soul is light,
a quicksilver shadow now taking flight,
to glide on an autumn-whispered breeze
above crimson crowns on the royal trees;
past clouds in the sky, mounts capped in snow;
place stars in the heavens; I count them low,
for no earthly cords can bind me long;
my soul makes to fly and my wings are strong.