The fall arrived this morning. It's been poking its head up for weeks, but this morning the temperatures fell deep down and the radiators surged. I sat in the wooden chair where I drink my morning tea and looked out of the 100-year old window with its twelve panes of glass... and I saw the maple turning in the nun's garden.
It stands across the street from me, over a wooden fence. It provides home to a community of crows and it seems to be the timeless, motionless being in our midst. It listens to the musings of a community of nurses from Mercy Hospital who smoke under its shade. It fills my window with leaves and it is constantly changing. We don't notice it most of the time... But this time of year, that change becomes vivid, like fire.
It stands across the street from me, over a wooden fence. It provides home to a community of crows and it seems to be the timeless, motionless being in our midst. It listens to the musings of a community of nurses from Mercy Hospital who smoke under its shade. It fills my window with leaves and it is constantly changing. We don't notice it most of the time... But this time of year, that change becomes vivid, like fire.
