Posts Tagged: fall

closed

image from www.flickr.com

Closed dome over a baseball game late in the season.  Indoor baseball – it just isn't right.  Summer really is over.

 

new season, the enticer

I should be going to bed but I can’t move away from the breeze coming in the balcony door.  The season is changing, the air delicious; like that you might love in summer, but cooler, more substantive, lustier.

Tonight, on my walk, that breeze whips around like a playful child.  Not so much a wind – it dances rather than rips.  Energy and electricity are transported into my body; like droplets from the lake are being hurled up in grand funnels and rained down into my pores.

There are fewer people around the piers now.  Another sign of the waning season.  Vacations are finishing and families are heading home, focusing on things like school.  And the people that remain seem different too – the conversations more lively, bodies seem a little more alert.  There is less lolling in the walking – more vigour.

I walk by a group of about six sitting on a bench.  Against the lights behind them, they are silhouetted – black figures, interacting in a conversation that wafts in and out of my earshot with the wind.  The voices sound maybe Dutch or German.  Each one is engaged with the group – I think of da Vinci’s The Last Supper, the shapes of these particular people leaning into or away from each other evokes lively discourse, like that painting.

The silhouetted people are sitting near a docked sailing ship.  It must be because this particular ship is sitting north/south rather than east/west that she, unlike the other sailing ships moored along the piers, has ropes clanging a rhythmic, groovy beating against her masts.  I think of drumming circles I’ve heard and that this is just as beautiful in its repetitive chant. 

When I walk by the same spot on my way back and find the people still on the bench, still engaged in conversation, leaning into and away from one another, and the ropes still beating their clangy pace against the masts, I think that for sure it’s that sound which drew the group to that particular bench in the first place.

The wind whips my hair and my sweater.  The air is electric.  I’m glad I can’t see the colour of the clouds because I might not have enjoyed the walk as much if I’d known a storm was imminent. 

But then, without the benefit of light in the sky you know your other senses.  There's no storm – just a raucous, sexy night.  A night that seems to be leaving me and my summer dreams down here on earth where we belong.