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 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…