Fall brings to me a melancholy that aches deep inside my soul. Living in a place where the seasons change is both sweet and sad.
As the leaves catch fire with color, torn from the trees, falling and whirling about, the context of life shifts and becomes barren. What was once lush forest is now naked trees, standing bones awaiting the snows of winter.
As I walk through this new world at dusk I hear whispers of ancient songs, sung by the ghosts who have been released as the leaves of the trees have fallen.
The chill in the air as the season changes is only partly from the shift to oncoming winter. These ghosts sing to my melancholy, stirring up feelings that have lain dormant during the spring and summer months.
Strong fire seems to be the only thing that drives out these wraiths from the edges of my heart. They call to me, these hungry ghost of fall, trying in vain to bewitch as I travel down these wooded paths, waiting for the icy winter to put these ghosts to sleep.
~ Kit Latham
(originally published on my Facebook page, which is private)