Fall: a verb, a noun, a season; all three have been on my mind this week.
First, the verb--to come down because detached, pushed, dropped, etc.
That describes my writing as of late, including posts on my blog. (A big, "I'm sorry" to my followers. I promise to do better). Life has consumed me in other ways and thus has detached me from the passion that had kept me going. Discouragement crept in and pushed my confidence into a corner and I have dropped my proverbial pen.
Second, the noun--a yielding to temptation; wrongdoing; moral lapse.
The country, my country--the one I love and revere, is teetering, threatening to fall. It is yielding to the temptation of spending beyond its means. Economically they are doing everything wrong, and the moral lapse of the people blind themselves to the disaster that lay ahead. It is disheartening and only adds to my discouragement in the writing arena--if and when I ever get published, will people even be able to afford to buy food, let alone a superfluous book?
Third, the season--that season of the year in which many trees loose their leaves; autumn.
I've always loved the fall; the cold induced transformation of green leaves into vibrant, warm shades of reds and golds; the shedding of leaves in preparation for the brutal weather ahead; the brisk breeze that blows away the scorching heat of summer. With the heat of summer behind and the cold of winter ahead, fall wraps me in her beautiful, mild arms and whispers in my ears of the grandeur of life on this wonderful place called earth. Fall renews me. With my garden soon to be tilled under, and the weather holding me prisoner indoors, I will have more time to pick up that proverbial pen. And I know that the more I write, the less I'll be discouraged. And the less I am discouraged, the better my writing will be. And the better my writing gets, the more chance I'll have to rise above the falling dollar and create a story that will survive the falling publishing industry. I love fall!
FALL
Shades of red and orange
paint the falling leaves
as the final heat of summer
fizzles out and leaves.
Though fall is a fickle season,
with death mingled with vibrant gold,
Its one of preparation,
encouraging me to weather the cold.
Love this post! I couldn't agree more.
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