Down the hill, from green to black

I got the ax out of the chicken coop to split the wood for the first autumn fire. Without ceremony, I hung the lawn chairs in the garage for the season and put away the hammock and lawn furniture. A jigsaw puzzle of large, bulky items knotted together by the tractor and generator. The season the mice and rats make a play to come indoors, and the cat stands watch by the upper loft with serial killer precision. October is a much different month than its predecessor, looming in the doorway with hit-man eyes glowing in the dark. We’ve put the heat back on for early morning comfort, that soft purr: the cat curling into the vents where it blows from the floor. And outside the bistro light timer trips at 6, the fog rolls in to choke the moon, and in the dark of morning Orion’s belt is back, it sparkles in the crystals on the pavement and bends us back to the end, to where we all began.

Categories: prose, writing

Tags: , , , , ,

12 replies

  1. Excellent, a bracing distillate of autumn, with a cool menacing undertone. Orion’s belt sparkling in the crystals is a lovely image, and meanwhile…stow away the deck chairs and batten down the hatches, October’s back in town – – ax, serial killer, glowing eyes, fog, choke…

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I never figured you as a chicken coop, tractor kind of guy. I keep finding out new things. That October menace you have going on is a great vibe. Sounds like something you might want to dive into, wallow around in, maybe get it out of your system by writing about it. You could even submit it somewhere. I’m not saying anything, I’m just saying.

    Liked by 2 people

    • That’s awesome, I know…love your sense of humor, old Hoss. And someone has a big day coming, besides! Ha! Thanks for reading. I’ll stew on that submission thing. Scarred (not scared) by the one time I did, and man did it suck lemons. Not in a good way, either.


  3. i love the dark undertones here, i’m kind of getting a chill.


  4. Fog rolls in to choke the moon…

    A drunken sailor, maybe on the leeward side of sanity, breath reeking of cheap whiskey, sways towards the nightlight, radiating a leering intent to suppress the feminine, silence the goddess. Make the captain proud, stinking shambles of a man.

    (So your inspiration, Bill, seems to have brought forth more anger. I need to turn away from US public life, maybe)

    Liked by 1 person

    • You do need to turn away, though you’re always welcome to vent here, my friend! I feel you. Really felt that anger yesterday. Had to get some violence out of my system, today. thanks for that Bruce. You’re lucky, you can turn away (some). Bill

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: