two leaves
pam ullman
There’s a saying among the Bedouin people, The dog barks, the caravan passes on. Autumn is coming to the Northern Hemisphere, and after that…winter. No complaint of ours can halt the caravan, nor even slow it down.
Autumn is always a time of leaving, a time of inevitability. We no longer laze in the shade of the porch; we bundle up in sweaters and move our chair to catch the last warming rays of sunlight, knowing that all too soon we’ll have to abandon our chair and move indoors for the winter.
The air is crisp as apples and a faint haze of melancholy hangs in the air like woodsmoke. It catches in our hair and clothes and follows us inside. After a while, we no longer notice it. The dog barks. The caravan passes on.
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