Autumn leaves fall from their trees, guided by winds of fate and atmospheric pressure changes, and I obsessively count each leaf through a window analogizing each leaf as one of my many failures falling from the absurdly high expectations in my mind. Autumn colors are beautiful but depressing since all I can think of is the metaphor of death as the land slowly succumbs to winter’s bite. Yet there is also comfort in the act of surviving the winter because it is a reminder of the resilience of humans, a reminder of the best of the human spirit for endurance and progress.
52, 53, 54, . . .
I’m staring out the window now simply counting the falling leaves.
56, 57, 58, . . .
The bell above the entry door jingles and my eyes avert from the window to a beautiful woman who just walked into Elevation Coffee.
A glimpse into my mind as I sat at a Taos coffee shop enjoying a day off work.