Thursday, September 11, 2008

Autumn's Euphoria


the hummingbirds have left, they have been replaced by yellow jackets, the hornet. i miss them already.
the barn swallows are sparse, most have gone also, i miss their song, i miss the silvery black tongue of the ruby throated hummingbirds, dipping into the red nectar feeder outside my window.
it hits me like that...when the morning suddenly is darker, and breath i suck in and out of me, hangs like a puff of white smoke...the feeling of having a hot cup of java outside in the morning, because the air is crisp and it makes me love my coffee even more.
as i drive, the leaves are letting go and blowing aimlessly around, reminding me of the blustery day in the Winnie the Pooh stories...sky is a bit more grey, the brilliance of summer blues starts to fade, the beautiful fluff of the green grass, has gone a bit stiff...

and all the Crows sit together in one bare naked black tree, penciled in black against that white sky..there is something beautiful about it, something eerie and discorded.

the world even sounds different, like a certain 'thickness' of summer humidity has left, and the world is a little louder. it's euphoric, every year it touches me, whispering sickly "i'm back" and i shiver with a certain tinge of excitement. yeah i know what's coming for me, it is my dear friend, my favorite nightmare, the one thing i can't stand, the one thing i crave, and that is the sound of my pen on paper, the sound of a dry brilliantly colored leaf making that scratch against the pavement, the way apple cider smells while listening to someone play the guitar around a campfire, That.
my lack of 'normalacy' is suddenly replaced by manic euphoric inspiration riding thru me like cold hard waves, picking me up in a murky warmth and comfort, tossing me thru different channels like someone else is holding the remote control, turning, changing, turning, changing never stopping, or never knowing just where...i will end up...i only know that wherever i end up, i will not know what to expect, it's just the simpleness of accepting, and it's easy.
all the words in the world pile up in my head as if seeking shelter from everyone else's mind, storing themselves and taking up residence in my head...stuffed fully...head feeling bloated with words, emotions, colors, senses all magnified like the sun just landed on my body, burning.......til it pours itself out like cool water, empty...that temporary relief doesn't last long, before the cycle pours on me again
and it's always beautiful
and it's always painful
and it's always worth everything that happened to get there...because it's mine, it's my 'birth' that comes out, it's my 'life' that comes out, somehow...so i can see it.

Self Portrait

Self Portrait
This is Not a Drawing