winter will come

I hear her footsteps as she approaches
my flower garden wilting, turning brown.
Preparing to tuck itself back underground



I can't seem to control my mood. I was fine just an hour ago, thinking of bending down, and blowing on embers, to heat a wide circle of rocks that surround a tender little shoot, new and growing, to give warmth through the ground, to protect from wind and cold. I thought of my story as a map of my heart, a constellation chart reflecting the essential parts. I thought over the ideas and imagery, and it was like a meditation that calmed me. But now I am sad, so sad, like I have been hurt deeply in some way, in the moments between those thoughts and sitting here now, and I don't know why. I don't understand.

I guess though, that it is an okay place to start today's writing from, I don't feel anxious or scared, just sad. Like I have lost something, that mattered to me, and I don't know what it was, so I don't know how to go about searching for it, so there is no great hope of finding it. But I don't feel restless and chaotic, I feel centered in my sadness.
The words -lost illusions and delusions come to mind.

now I am off, to this writing adventure of mine.