The morning so unbelievably crisp and almost cold. “Fall!” was the squeal of my heart as I bowed to the moon and Venus dancing in the pre dawn sky. I pondered the morning’s reading on impermanence and change against the texture of a new season approaching. All is changing. Joy becomes sorrow and returns to joy. The face of the old person who is long lived is in the face of the newborn. The glory of spring’s adornment contains the detritus of fall. The reflection of the aspens, grass, and clouds are as real as the aspens, grass, and clouds themselves for reflection itself has its own reality. A reality short lived as the sun moves and the light changes. To try and hold the beautiful reflection in constancy would deny the beauty of the moon and Venus dancing.

I pause and listen for the whisper’s wisdom and grace to apply these simple ponderings to my heart, the day, and the unfolding night. Alas, the whisper would seem to be silent. It makes me smile. Silence instead of a whisper…. yet another reflection of change. And like nature’s summer sap drawing down to the roots with fall’s touch, I listen with the ears of spring.