there are colors in the air

I can feel the transition from summer to fall as I sit on the lawn in the backyard.
In the light of the sun I noticed this paper's texture for the first time, and I can calmly breathe again. This certainly is one of this year's last summer days (the first leaves on the walnut trees turned yellow already; the apples grow heavier, so heavy that the branches touch ground).
In front of me I can see a whim sitting on a blade of grass, chirping; and I try to take it all in (never to let go): the smells, the sounds, the warmth of the sun on my skin.

There is a single bright yellow flower that I can't name randomly showing its head up from the lawn, and these days birds start assembling to set out for the south. (I will, too, soon enough.)

Piano music is playing in my room (Lieder ohne Worte), the perfect soundtrack for today:
a day filled with Rilke's words of wisdom
(and silence on my part).


When words fail,
and Love wins,
it's heaven, here on earth.


Consider it, like the solitary raven flying over the field behind the house, and (oh gentle sound of home) a train passing in the distance.