fall is fleeting

Amid the last twinkling light still left in the day, the moon is up, big and bright and full. Clouds drift tauntingly across its face briefly diffusing its beam below. The sky to the west glows orange like autumn leaves and is fading into purple mountains majesty.

This small moment of solitude comes amid the din of a day. I want to hold onto it until the moon hangs high above my head and the stars take off their black cloaks and begin their sparkle show, except the sunset is so beautiful I want to tell someone.

I walk the bridge, interrupting the night's movement towards silence. Fall foliage now underfoot, leaves stick to the bottom of my boots, wet and slippery. My feet hit the stone path. Leaving the traces of fall where they belong, I wipe my boots on the mat. I cross the threshold to the front door and step inside the house. I hear laughter and forks clinking glass plates and little boys chasing each other around the room.