The Solace of Ritual

“There is comfort in repetition and wonder in change.” Journal entry, 9/23/12

September’s sun filters through blue translucence
day and night becoming equal.
Temperatures rise and fall like tides;
ebb and flow between dawn and twilight,
gears of my Circadian clock adjusting.

Nesting urges permeate my behavior.
I swap out summer for winter bedding,
prepare for long nights and cold days.
Cupboards are filled as I squirrel away provisions.
I can smell leaves and home fires burning.

The changing season, trees ablaze,
transformation before dormancy, so begins
the hibernation of winter.
Golden, auburn, crimson, tawny shades of brown
fade to a grayscale palette.

I can hear the crisp sounds of leaves
dancing on sidewalks, and the wind begin to whistle.
Soon the swan song of September surrenders
to a calendar of holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving,
Hanukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day and the New Year.

Memories recycle of seasons past
of people absent and places far away.
I soothe myself with the solace of ritual.
There is comfort in repetition
and wonder in change.

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