The sun slips a bright note under my door:
Its announcement of the season’s arrival.
I stare at it reverently.
A quietude falls over the valley:
All is caught in a hush, a pause,
Languid in autumnal bliss,
Receiving the blessing of the bowing sun.
The sandstone boulders in the canyons
Are bathed in the quality of light
That they richly deserve.
All in shadow basks in backlit reflection.
The fine powder on the mountain trail
Transmutes to precious dust of gold.
Sweet sadness, a nostalgia for the ineffable,
Hangs like an old hat on a sunlit rack.
Hurry is cancelled, worry evaporates;
Shadows stretch time
For pedestrians under the portales
Of the plaza downtown.
The season turns, and we with it,
Into slanting sunshine.

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