On a walk this morning up the street, the sun was shining and the temperature was pleasantly nearing some 50 degrees. The wind blew at varying tempos, fast, medium and slow. The rays of the sun came bouncing down to earth, dodging shadows in search of objects to reflect upon. The brilliance glistened silver on small sage leaves of olive bushes dotting the landscape. A nondescript tree had tiny reddish-brown leaves that whirled and whirled like tops. They hung on fiercely to the branches. Wind and sun converged in the air as I remembered fragments of a dream from the night before, where I inhabited a town of mean spirited, and kindred folk alike. Where a child lost in a sea of water called his mother for help. Others swam against the current, upstream. I roamed in and out of empty homes trying to find a place of friendship, when finally peace-loving souls welcomed me in. Relieved to be awake, reality reassured me I was alive in Autumn.
On Tiffany Creek 