I think of October as the month that the geese fly south. I woke up the other night threw on my jacket and went out on the back steps and there they were against the moon, flying and honking as the went. I don't cry easily but somehow that sight brought tears to my eyes. I am happy that there are things that follow their primal track. Always the same time after time no matter what is put in their way. They fly in that vee formation so familiar to every one. I was told by a park ranger that  their leader is always a wise old female. She doesn't necessarily lead the entire way, when she gets tired she drops back and another female takes her place till they reach there destination.

The bedroom window is at tree top height and the leaves are turning color at it's tips. The sun as it's setting dances over and through the leaves and reflects the most beautiful shading. The veins were dark against their fragile skin and I could see traces of fine lines and changing shape. If ever there is a reason to believe in something larger then our selves nature is the reason. There is nothing that makes me appreciate how inept at
creation humans are, then the beauty of the seasons and the beauty within them.