For the love of sculpting❄️

A solitary wanderer waits patiently for his

moment to become purpose...

*

my mind drifts between now and when as I

rake crackling remnants into mounds of

browning aftermath; skeletal remains of yet

another dazzling exodus...

trees, once full of laughter, have lost their

character, exposing a dreary alter ego. their

armor, a rugged map of time, vows to protect...

busy squirrels race against the clock, stashing

acorns, fattening themselves along the way.

they too, feel their world rounding the bend...

blue skies grow greyer with each passing sun.

golden beams fall hollow, unable to stir the

day's chill...

flowers have withered away, their sweet breath

of lavender and honeysuckle dissolved into the

wind’s language long ago. air has become thick

with change and damp moss, soon to be the

likes of everlasting tundra...

*

as transition nears, i'll wake from a melatonin

haze to gaze at nature's trickery, stunning the

senses with a lapse in time—an overnight

spectacle...

glittering beauty will spread like a wanted

plague, bedazzling every inch of everything

as dawn reveals the work of an unseen artist,

transforming elements into glorious glass

murals, freezing the landscape into a frosted

wonderland...

i'll savor the moment with a warm cider; the flavor

of autumn's embrace, spiced with memory—

contemplating nothing...

appreciating everything...

in the coming weeks, I'll be wondering, waiting,

looking for our little wanderer—a speck of dust—

to become the first snowflake of the year...