Cobblestones

On a night when the leaves chase each other across the cobblestones and the North wind whispers of the coming cold, I make my way amongst the puddles of light cast off by the evenly spaced street lamps, softly humming an old Jackson Browne tune I dig my hands deeper into my pockets. It isn’t far now I can see the twinkling of lights through the darkness and the muted symphony of voices intermittently rises above the creaks and groans of the bare trees swaying above me before hurrying away  to chase the wind…

The Silver Lady of the Wood

…Robed in their crystalline coats of white the mighty firs rise around me, silent sentinels keeping watch until the girl with the golden eyes returns. The downy flakes are falling again deepening the already impenetrable silence. Unsure why I find myself standing still; drinking in the cold air the only sound my own heart rhythmically keeping time. The mist of my breath disappears into the coming twilight and the grey deepens around me. As I draw in the silence I sense the faint elusive traces of hardwood smoke, knowing the crackle of the hearth awaits I set out again. Leaving the moment behind a melancholy wistfulness envelops me and I wonder if I will come again to the silver lady of the wood and her silent sanctuary…

The Girl with the Golden Eyes…

…The sun slowly begins its journey West sinking low on the horizon casting long shadows over the scarlet sumac and illuminates the late blooming golden rod in its final bow. In the indigo twilight, a crescent moon rises and a soft breeze with just a touch of fall’s impending breath rustles the hollow cornhusks their tasseled heads bow in submission. The maples along the ridgeline valiantly resisting the inevitable change while the imperious firs silently watch on. Its there I catch a glimpse of the girl with golden eyes saying her wistful goodbyes…