Leaf

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.

~ Anais Nin

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I like leaves.  I like autumn.  I like when things wind down and prepare for the quiet, blanketed winter.  The early is simultaneously soft and crunchy.  The moist earth preparing for things to be buried and mixed into the soil.  The leaves and twigs cracking beneath boots and animal feet.

I think it is about the most beautiful time of all.  I used to think it was the end of something.  Instead, now, I think it is the beginning before the beginning.  If things don't die and compost, the world won't be ready for new growth.  It's getting the earth ready to incubate for spring.

So, when I was trying to think of the world incubate just now, all I could think of was concubine.  That is a very different kind of thing. 

On an incredibly loosely related note, I think "The Porcupine Concubine" would be a good book except that maybe people would think it was a children's book and it wouldn't be a children's book at all.