Monday, October 24, 2011

Slower

The Autumn nights are quiet and still.  Gone is the roaring activity of Summer darkness, where the mating calls of frogs, crickets, and cicadas are accented by flashing displays of fireflies in a grand orchestra.  Autumn’s cool nights bring only an occasional frog trill and perhaps the chirp of a single, brave cricket.  These muted solos herald the slowing of the season, foretelling the deeper quiet of winter to come.
I have always struggled with the dark part of the year.  I chafe at the slow pace when little outward change takes place.  I long for action.  I want to see something happen even as I know that much is accomplished during this quiet, that the roots of next Summer’s accomplishments push secretly through the fabric of my life, preparing to spring to life and bear fruit.  Perhaps someday I will learn to flow gracefully with this part of Nature’s cycles.  I will learn to have faith in the rightness of it all.

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