Molly Molntuss

Today is the second to last day of August. It means my thoughts soon will take off flying. My whole body tingles when the sun hits the trees in change. The air is like pure magic inhaled into my lungs and when that chilly breeze blows through but I'm still being warmed by the light through the trees I feel as all those things I want to be. The colours and scents twirl down the streets in an embrace of perfection and I don't miss anything at all, there's nothing more in the world that I'd want.

Maybe the sad memories of last year will come back to me but I doubt I'll let them ruin the only time a year where I have a chance to be at peace. I feel history flowing through me and for once I'm a part of the world, being united with it for a change, instead of being turned away from it in childish obstinacy. Anger runs off me like the rain pours in the first storms and I get peeled off to stand naked like those trees I love so, a silhouette in front of skies in uproar, only bending slightly.

There's nothing to be upset about, there's nothing to mourn it's only nature returning to itself showing us what it's really made of without the cosmetic coverups of perfectly placed living things by human hand. I'll decorate my home with orange roses and branches of rowanberry and when the sun sets I might even sleep wanting to wake up the next day to experiance it all over again.

It has already begun, potent child of spring, the birchtree has already started to turn yellow and I can't help but rattle them to watch the leaves fall to the sounds of my giggeling. Soon the maples will follow, then the oaks, the beeches, ashes, elm, alder, aspen and chestnut.

Please be gentle in your critique of the first of the darker seasons, it offers some of us the only chance we get to have the fog lifted to see the world in bright lights.