October Night

The air is cool and damp, a soft mist is swirling down so lightly that I don't even notice at first. It simply feels alive, stirring against my skin, the breath of a kiss hovering just out of reach. The saturated atmosphere magnifies the orange glow of the streetlights, lending an autumnal brightness to the soft night. It shines over tree branches and driveways, casting stark traceries of golden light and shadows. I pause to drink in this night. Both intimate and infinite, it stretches endlessly between the cozy pleasures of the hearth and the wild promise of a deeply magical night. The gentlest of breezes stirs. I close my eyes to lose myself in the whisper of leaves and far-off windchimes. What secrets do the branches tell, one to the other, passing wisdom over the Earth? What spell does the windsong weave? I hear a soft tap in the dry leaves behind me, then another to the side. I open my eyes to the swirl of orange light. The air has thickened with promise. Tap, pop, pip. Individual sounds collecting together in soft percussive harmony. Gentle rain. I nod slightly in acknowledgment of this moment, a mental curtsy to the wild spirit of this night. Thank you.