Grey mist can be a lonely thing, and it seems as though the weather mirrors my mood. It has been overcast for five days, and though I love a grey sky at noon, with the somber colors of a slow moving autumn, I have become tired. It’s at times like these that I ought to visit sleep, but find myself waundering the wakefull dream wanting something, and finding nothing to sate my desire.
The trees have changed their hues slowly, resisting the change of season. The winds blow colder and threaten to bring the soft white blanket of winter upon us before its time. I love it more this way, for when the trees burst forth in the effusion of color, like in most autumn seasons, it lasts for only a short time, leaving the arching stems barren before its time. The color is more sober, far more reflective of the spirit of the season, and for this I am truly glad.
I will sleep early tonight. God says he gives rest to His beloved, and rest is what I seek.