Yesterday the late sun played like stage lights through trees waltzing to the music of a variable wind gusting 40mph.
Autumn colours have their own magical melancholy, though wind and sunlight make a walk in the woods more melody than melancholy.
In any case, the walk along familiar paths on a day near the hinge-point of autumn and winter, was indeed, more melody than melancholy
and the trees of the fields clapped their hands, and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations
and that eschatological prayer of hopeful defiance, "Your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven..."
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