this is exactly the kind of fall day that people get all fired up about. sweaters and hot chocolate. falling leaves and pumpkins. i have nothing better to do so i walk down to the woods that surround the creek behind our house. down past the crumbling ravine, past the broken barb-wire fence, past the now missing rope swing. i walk up to the old rusty railroad track bridge and find the perfect reading spot. i can lean against the metal post that supports the bridge and dangle my feet over the creek. the kickapoo drifts slowly under me; deceptively. the fall breeze blows the ripples in the water one way and the current moves downstream in the opposite direction. i can't read because i'm distracted by the trees who keep fighting to keep my attention. the sun moves and changes its perspective and every few minutes the colors change on the leaves. its beautiful in ways that can't be given to words by even the most gifted writer. and i notice a feeling of growing frustration. i can't take it in enough, the cup overfills, the memory fades, the picture yellows, the journal is lost. the moment will pass. everything does. but i'm frustrated that i can't have it, i want to put it in a box and take it into my room. i want to hide it in the closet. i want to take it out when i'm bored or lonely or when i can't sleep. but i know i can't. and so...it passes. the sunsets. i walk up back to the house and watch tv or play video games and everything is lost.

today's recommended mp3 - rosie thomas - bicycle, tricycle