The Heralds Of Autumn

Woke up to a cold, gray morning. Brr

As I stepped out onto the patio, my ears were greeted by the squawking of geese overhead as they made their journey south. The heralds of Autumn.

Afternoon winds gently blowing against the curtains. The smell of old leaves and earth . . . Reflections . . .  Recollections of all the past Autumns . . .  Time slipping by . . . Sweet longing for a place where I can curl up unnoticed and sleep in the late afternoon sun … warm and comforted . . . safe and loved

Weaving ~ Creating ~ For now, this moment is all I need. x0