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"We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." C. Bukowski
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Friday, August 24, 2012
"I Can Feel It Coming In The Air Tonight... Oh Lord"
There was a change in the air last night. I woke up this morn to find Ms Autumn gifting Lovely Ouray with a Free Sample of what's to come. Yes, Fall is in the cool, calm, damp air today. As if on babies' breath, near motionless clouds... burdened with tropical moisture... occupy all but the floor of our Crevice. They cling to mountainsides like bridal veils... teasing us with ambiguous views of tree-tips, peaks, and rocky bluffs.
There is a nip, a feel of impending change, as our orb yields to the greater Gyroscope and tilts ever so slightly away from the sun. I feel it, the trees feel it... the bears and squirrels and deer feel it. It shows in the way it changes things... the order of the day, sleep, mindsets, relief... all subconscious whispers to "prepare."
Autumn's approach bolsters my spirit, perhaps because of her shy illusive nature. Her allure and presence is so fleeting... as brief as youth and beauty itself. Autumn clings like a swelling drop of dew on leaf's drooping edge; suddenly gone. And so it is that I must enjoy the approach of Autumn, like an old girlfriend about to drop by, in order to extended the reunion. I must start right now to savor the micro beginnings of change, rather than wait for the peak glory of her visit. I must relish with anticipation this drowsiness that precedes winters oncoming deep slumber. Yes, I will prolong the joy of my favorite season with a sense of expectancy, excitement and suspense. I will start now, today, under wrap of Ms Autumn's Free Sample, with an inner sense of shortened days and waxing moon nights.
Upon Autumn's departure here, I shall chase her down again and again like a dumb-struck lover, in an attempt to lengthen our rapturous affair. I'll will seek her out in Zion's canyons, in the fiery red maples and molted leaved oaks. I will follow her south as she glides sunward on an ever tilting axis, to Madera Canyon and the border of Mexico... where she lingers and rests but for a moment before finally eluding my grasp.
"Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord, oh Lord" (Phil Collins)