Clear and round

Water droplets hang suspended

from bare branches.

I see the water droplets almost every morning now.  My blog is subtitled “Trying to Find The Words.”  That is the difficulty and the joy of writing.  How do you convey in language the myriad images and feelings that come to mind when you see the world around you?  How do you strip away the rich language of metaphor to get to the bones of experience?  The water droplets reflect the waning light as the earth moves away from the sun.  They mirror the colors of the dying leaves, crimson and brown.  They are still and beautiful in the cold morning.  They are full and empty.  There is peace in dwelling upon them as the busy world whirls around them.  Simple, stark, they will be gone as the sun climbs higher.  Until tomorrow, when they will appear again.