Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me

Fluttering from the autumn tree…

~ Excerpt from “Fall, leaves, fall” by Emily Bronte

Wake late after not enough sleep. Before walking I sit in the hot sunshine on the deck and write the prompt for tomorrow’s Charles River Writers workshop. Charlie is impatient, but finally, we have a short walk in the leaf-strewn woods. More reddening of the trees on the river’s edge, beaming hot-spots. It’s warm and dry and fresh. I have finished two William Maxwell novels now on Audible, most recently “The Folded Leaf,” and have loved them both. I will read, or listen/read, to all his novels. But I crossed genre from fiction to memoir for the moment, to listen to Clarissa Ward’s memoir about being a foreign correspondent, “On All Fronts: The Education of a Journalist.” She’s narrating it. i’m a few chapters in and I’m hooked.Finished prepping, also, my online 6-week Your Memoir As Monologue course for the Transformative Language Arts Network that starts tomorrow on Wet.Ink. My second offering this year of this course and it’s full. I love this autumn leaf I saw looking up at me from the trail this morning, the pale greens and blues of a lovely aging––the blue summer sky fading and the green grasses dulling. Yes, every day of summer I lived and appreciated. Here, leaf, speak bliss to me.