Dyed he is with the
Color of Autumnal days,
O red dragonfly.
(by Bakusui)

A heavy rain, and I went into it bare armed and appreciative. All the flowers, plants, trees drinking up the refreshment, and me too. I had a short walk before poetry workshop. Stopped by the garden for a few veggies. Later in the day, after the rain and all the tornado and hurricane warnings around, I found the lovely dragonfly. And the day dried and a wind blew up and the leaves scattered the trail on my second walk, with my daughter, to Farm Pond, in the later afternoon. A whooshing wind blowing more refreshment, and, of course, the sense of the season changing. Despite the wind, how still the lake was, unruffled, clean, pure pleasure. Big white clouds, warm air. My poem needs work. I see what I can do to improve it. I swam around the island, walked home through the quiet woods. I made a chili for dinner for Frank and felt the baking spirit, the cooking spirit of fall coming, saw a can of pumpkin in the cabinet and thought: hmm. I may bake something soon for autumn. Oh, not yet, though. Not yet. I have so much more swimming I want to do. And a big goodbye to make. O red dragonfly.