Last Light

Last Light,

Fading through black pine,

Falls on bamboo.

Back home in Portland and the Fall has drifted over the Northwest while I was away - the colors have not shifted, but the season has. Light is low, and warm, and gentle. There is no rush to it's traverse.

Liguid Light

A few days ago fall shifted gears, cool dampness replaced crisp sun, and then the final act began, rain returned.

In that window between the two, when the season tide within fall runs slack, there is a chance to see the world differently here. Every deciduous tree and shrub is cast in autumnal hues - their time is measured by the rains - and that clock decides how the colors will pass -

some melt,
some run,
some freeze for a fleeting moment, like an exhalant breath of summer.

This year the rains began in the day, there was Light to show the way and color to paint the path.