Autumn Rain

The first rain of new Autumn falls gentle on the dog wood tree, that sways gentle in the cool breeze that rolls of the mountains.

It trickles over green leaves that looked as if they have been dipped in blood, splashed scarlet by the coming cold.

 It follows smoothly the contours of a hanging acorn, collecting at the point to fall to the dark ground below.

The first autumn's rain falls like a song, tender upon ear and soul.

It is both promise and warning.

It is both living and dying.

Samhain to come, Mabon undone.

There can be no denying.