Sunday, September 05, 2010

In the Blue Bowl of Morning

You awaken to skies that would make Maxfield Parrish want to dance, the sound of geese in singing flight back to the corn and barley fields to feed, this year's progeny singing loudest of all up there in the blue bowl of morning. Their pleasure awakens your own as you stand watching and listening in the garden with your mug of tea, eyes shielded against the bright rising sun with a sleepy hand.

Setting off on an early walk with Spencer, you pause together by your neighbor's fish pond to watch the white and scarlet koi finning their way around in circles, and you notice that the first fallen maple leaves of the season have already drifted into the pool, making eddies and swirls and perfect round spirals there.

Blue and gold and scarlet lodge in your wandering thoughts, and on the way home, you consider hauling out your potter's wheel, throwing bowls and glazing them in just those perfect autumn colors. Emaho!

5 comments:

Pallas Renatus said...

Is it that time already? Oh how the year flies by!

nandas said...

emaho... what does that mean and which tribal language is it? it gave me a little peacefull feeling wen i read it. thanks

Deborah Carr said...

Welcome home,autumn.

kerrdelune said...

Emaho is a Dzogchen (Tibetan Buddhist)expression, and it means simply: wonderful, amazing, gorgeous, astonishing, "far out". We sometimes call it "the shortest teaching".

kerrdelune said...

Yes indeed, autumn is home, and it is wonderful to see her. This is my favorite season!