The wind was stiff, the clouds rolled down from the mountains creating a mist that covered the lake. The boat sat anchored near the docks, sails lowered. I sat on the beach, listening to Eric Satie on my iPod, imagining a day sailing.
I Remembered a friend who’d written a poem to Satie whilst I wrote a brief story. Summer seems so much more creative somehow. Here, sitting with a coat on against the autumn chill, a little sad for no special reason, I wonder, how to bring the warmth of summer into my heart.
The clouds rolling down the mountains have their own special beauty. The sun, is as intense as any summer sun.
Today, I noticed that when you look carefully at the sun rising over the mountain, you can see that the Earth has tilted, as it does every season. In Spring, the sun’s eastern come up is more northerly compared to an autumn sunrise. Would I notice this if I lived on the plains? Maybe, on the other hand, this is an illusion. The sun takes more time to get over the mountain, so maybe it only seems to be more southerly.
I walk on, pondering. Life moves more slowly in the autumn. There are fewer people, the days are shorter…