Here are the words I wrote about the “Thanksgiving art” I posted yesterday.
I am a wandering forest dweller. Let me sit and breathe the wet earth, sun myself on toasted plant life and saturate these eyeballs with crimson and gold.
It’s fleeting, this display of wonder. I’ve climbed the long way through this year to reach just this moment and now there’s an urgency, with a chorus of NOW! It must be NOW that I feast and NOW that it must be shared, on the path, in the garden, at the table, before the next storm takes the rest of the leaves and turns them to a carpet of browning mush.
But ah! Such fragrant molding.