Autumn leaving
brings a kind of grieving a sorrowing at the shortness of the season that savoured space between summer heat and winter freezing a colourful unleaving skin shedding, holy lenting, calving, isolating autumn unlike any I can remember: shrouded in smoke, in soap, washed hands, news reel and the sounds of home are amplified; joyful, painful, silent, ear splitting sounds blurry edged video calls - we’ve grown older we’ve laboured, schooled, baked, sowed, and let go and let go and let go - Autumn like no other and painted like every other: ash gold, oak brown, gum grey, clover green, hawthorn red marked with blood, with loss and love.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
ABOUT the authorEmily Clare Sims is a farmer and mama to three young boys. Each day she looks for ways to notice beauty, contemplate her faith and savour the seasons... Categories
All
|