Far and distant like a boat lost at sea. A strong undertow is just under the surface. There's something brewing in the deep. The sun is fading; the leaves are in their last moments. I feel like something inside me is dying too. The freedom of the heat. The sand, the salty mist in the breeze leaves me in a wistful bliss of half-hazard fun; my head floating up in the clouds. And autumn rolls in with the gravity of it all. It brings back my reservations. I feel the weight of it, my feet planted firmly on the ground. Down shifting as I round the bend. Packing up my "ride the wind" disposition like expired holiday decorations. To be placed in a box in the attic until next year...
So my little sailboat will drift on with the autumn current, wherever that undertow takes me...
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