Melancholy

It's a cool breezy day here in the hills.  I just glanced back behind me and out the window to my side yard full of brush; dying crispy, brownish ferns,  blooming golden rod and aster.  There is no going back now.  Autumn is on it's way and right around the corner.  The crickets chirping and the drone of small single engine airplanes remind me of the turning of the season.   I'm also aware of and visited by familiar feelings of melancholy, vulnerability, sensitivity and longing this time of year.   It's an unsettledness and sweet pain that's a bit uncomfortable at times.  The drive and push of late spring to mid summer slows to allow more time for reflection.  With this reflection I take stock of who I was, who I am and who I want to become.  I crawl inward to the chambers within the cave that is me and visit places that are familiar yet different at the same time.  I feel vulnerable like the cooling down and dying back that is happening all around me is outwardly mirroring a piece of me that is dying, changing and moving on.