by Kevin T McEneaney When air wafts gusty cool in mature autumn while fallen leaves crinkle yellow, orange, making a shushing sound ground underfoot as hum of insects vanish from blue air, there’s a recognition of abundance when the panty bursts full of potatoes, onions, carrots, beets, apples, and pumpkin! One’s spirit rejoices in the present, cool and crisp, the axe handle standing up, ready for the great arc swing to split wood…. Anticipation of raw-wind winter hovers like a floating dream of red leaves, yet the future is a page unknown while autumnal now is beyond compare.
