A thick, gray cloud hides the Cold Moon.
Yesterday, in an effort to soak in the last warm afternoon before a stretch of colder ones arrive, I walked the field, drawing in the clean, autumn air with each long stride. And stood looking out from the woods’ edge at my favorite spot to stop.
From here, the big, old barn looks small.
Phoebes and tree swallows gone, the field seems very empty.
But, I remember a sky, thick with butterflies, before the goldenrod faded to brown.
And how the deer, too, would linger in this spot, looking out from the safety of the woods.
Behind me, fallen leaves rustle with the slow and cautious steps of the same, whose footprints I see left on the ground beside my own. I am careful to move slowly along in this season, knowing that those I rouse will circle back and reclaim the space as I leave it. Hoping they won’t, instead, fearfully bound away and on to the next field.
Behind the tall grass, resting in the pasture, are our goats, now just six.
These days for them, too, are all about drinking it in--contentedly waiting...and chewing things over.
And cycles that remind us that butterflies will fly again—soon.
See more Skywatch here.