I found a gem of a book this evening in an odd store not far from my home. Tucked away in a deep recess created by the mountain of other books, the beautiful cover caught my eye. As I thumbed through the crisp, new pages I stumbled upon this wonderful piece by a writer I never heard of but his words spoke to my heart.
It is no secret that my favorite season is autumn. Every fall my heart wanders in the quietness of the majestic hardwoods. where the silence is broken only by the trickle of the silver thread that not but a few short months ago was a playful stream teaming with life.
“Then steal up the little gorge and sit at the foot of the thread of water that falls into the quiet bowl. The shrunken stream only whispers now, but in the stillness you can think back to the time when you heard it roaring. It seems now more likable, if less splendid. And the woods are thinking it all over. Leaves fall one by one, and here and there shafts of light shine down where the woods were lately dark. If you sit quite still you may see a thrush drink from the pool or hear the chirp of some passing bird. A red squirrel is busy on the upper bank and the bell of the distant train tells you that there were once people here. Otherwise you have only the Falls and the weight of endless time.”- T. Morris Longstreth
Thank you Mr. Longstreth for speaking my thoughts. Sentiments I have tried in vain to write but have fallen short, you sir have succeeded to that end where I have miserably failed….