The leaves fall, fall as from far, Like distant gardens withered in the heavens; They fall with slow and lingering descent.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Excerpt from “Autumn”

Leaves lit by sun at the river. All the color reflected on the water. I am not tired in this sun even though I stayed up late working on a new poem about autumn. Something ignited by my log last night. Woke in the night and lines coming. Wrote them down and woke early, looking again at the poem, letting it come. I led the Charles River Writers critique group, very stimulating, wonderful writing shared and insightful comments for each other. At noon, the closet man, the man who designs closets came to look at our bedroom one that is new and empty. Decisions. And the painters have put color on the walls in the all and the bedrooms of the rest of the household and they are just right, my daughters picked them, but the hall color must be changed, I see this clearly, before it goes up. More decision. More choices. For some people these design choices are fun. What is quite amazing is the work of the mason on the double sided fireplace in the dining room/living room; his skilled craftmanship, his artistry, the beauty of the natural stone and the hearth soon to come. In the evening, led my final play lab with this group. Lots of great feedback for each other and for me. The satisfaction and pride i feel at what we accomplished. I find, this morning, a golden tree waving to me from the brook.