mixed messages

Deep in thought,

of calculations and of scheming

and of Figuring things out;

a gentle cool breeze 

washes over my face

and brings me to another place.

Cool,

not cold

and so it captures my attention

and i rush to capture the moment on this typed screen.

How to explain the subtle changes,

from the working,

grasping mind

to one that flows?

I begin to feel,

not only the breeze,

but the colors of the leaves,

as they begin to turn.

The clear sky

and the sun beginning to rise.

A bee flitting past in search of the last drops of nectar,

from flowers still in bloom.

Those "things" i thought of earlier,

they still exist,

but not in the the cold hard form of equations,

but in gentle nudges of how to continue on.

The Forsythia shows the mixed message best,

the leaves beginning to turn,

yet a yellow flower of spring attached.

I do love Autumn,

for to enjoy it,

 one must not think of the summer that was past,

nor of the Winter that still is yet to come.