Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Cold Nights To Come

It came downstream quietly
Slipped in unnoticed from the north
Veiled in cool, gentle rain
Obscured in blankets of mist
Cloaked in the white noise of rolling waters, rustling winds, and distant rumbles

As I fished, it took me by surprise

In truth, it was not unexpected
But its arrival was stunning just the same
On muted owl’s wings, in silent descent
Claimed its prey
The scrap of summer that lingered too long

The transition occurred between casts

It painted the river with a deep golden stain
Saturated and heavy in dew and dim light
Dampened slick rocks to obsidian black
Against which mats of maple, hickory and sourwood coalesced
Fluid colors on liquid surface
A vivid mosaic floor of leafy tile, substantial only to the eye
That rippled hypnotically as I waded near

While the banks softly burst into flame

Tonight the stove holds its first blaze of the season
Row covers will drape o’r the garden’s remains
And mothballs and cedar will tickle our noses
As we burrow down deep under long-stored patch quilts
To dream about cold nights to come

For, today, Fall quietly arrived on the Haw


CathyB said...

As always, very nice, Mike. And so true.

There's a garnet-hued sourwood outside my back window right now that makes me catch my breath in awe every time I pass by it.

Ah, the fleeting glories of autumn...

Feather Chucker said...

Great pics Mike. That first one is amazing.

Mike Sepelak said...

There's no time more beautiful, Cathy. Enjoy.

And thanks, Kevin. The Haw is pretty spectacular right now.

cofisher said...

Of course the photos were great. And of course the words brought the pictures into clear focus. Nice job.

Mike Sepelak said...

Of course it's good to hear from you, Howard.

Betül said...

Beautiful photos!

Mike Sepelak said...

Thank you Betül. And welcome!