Roman Payne wrote the title of this post, he was commenting on the suddenness of death, but some combinations of words are poems which deserve to be plucked from paragraphs and endlessly applied to listening ears.
The leaves are falling slowly here, reluctantly, dancing on the sun warmed air, slipping out of our grasp at the very last second when we exclaim Ah!, our traitorous breath launching the burnished treasures skyward again.
My need to be still, quiet, and reflective is strong now, but only because these desires are the opposite of what the fractious energies of the season promise. Life only gets busier, louder, spread out across town and country, often expecting me to be in two places at once; everyone needs something from me. In keeping with my contrary nature my response to busy weeks is to want to hide even if it has to be in plain sight. I want to pull in and float along, observing the revelry, but not fully participating. This loner behavior serves in letting me see the world around me but isn't fulfilling in a way I want right now. Maybe this year I'll participate with my whole self and allow the world to know me. Hopefully I won't be tempted to fly away on the first breath of 'Ah! There you are; now we have you!' like a leaf reluctant to end its independent adventure.