Poetical mood

I'm in a poetical mood today.

Maybe it's the weather.  Rain, but in that particular Highland way which looks like mist, drifting in the air, leaving a soft halo of diffuse light around the hills when the last of the sunlight glows briefly from behind the clouds.

I'm in a poetical mood today.

Perhaps it's the woods.  Damp leaves underfoot, half still on the trees and brilliant in shades of orange and yellow, with the distinctive soft smells of earth, rot, and the quiet chill hanging in the air while the crows come in to roost.

I'm in a poetical mood today.

It could be the time of year.  Partway through the seasonal shift from Autumn to Winter.  Cold is creeping in, the frost never entirely melts away, but the land is not -quite- asleep.  Still wakeful, still shifting, getting comfortable.  Blink and you'll miss it.

I'm in a poetical mood today.

Whatever it is, it's nice.  Soft.  Light.  Allows me to appreciate the light on the hills and the smell in the air.  The sounds of crows, and the sharp, muffled snap of half rotted twigs underfoot.  The silent brilliance of leaves on trees.

I don't want it to stop, to go back to worrying about work (or lack of it) and other people (there's always so much). I'd like to be able (to be allowed) to just drift in this.  To appreciate the beauty and revel in it. And then repeat that.

But the world turns, and so do I.  Time flows, and takes me with it.  Life, joy, moments both good and bad, all is fleeting.  

I take the gifts chance brings me and I'll sit and smile and revel while I can.

I'm in a poetical mood today.  It is a gift, and I am happy for it.