fuschia flower

And the tree was so alive

the ant walked up it

the ant was so alive, too, in its very own reality!

I felt the suns heat as I walked in and out of shadows casted by the trees.

I smelled the thick fragrance of a bed of flowers

and the fuschia flower was so brightly coloured I couldn't believe the earth made it. 

I saw the stillness of the land and sky contrast against the wavy water,

and it was so blue

and the grass was so green that I had to touch each blade.

And the clouds in the sky were so soft and real and moved so swiftly.

Happy dearest November, the month of aubern. I usually think of naked trees and bald shrubs this time of year but there are lots of yellow leaves instead. Still each day is my favourite piece of artwork. Oh how I love the shriveled, wasting leaves that blow about; sidewalks coated in leaf smears and cloudy skies above it all. When the sun shines this time of year it reminds me of long ago, perhaps a dream or perhaps my childhood.

This is how it has been, if I can try to move through the static in my brain.
Lots of shifting, I think.
The yearning for simplicity has been calling
something new, something comfortable.
So much needed and still needs to wash away.
I think I am sensitive.
I threw a lot out yesterday. I forgot how damn good it feels.