Here’s the far shore of the lake on Sunday morning.

There’s the little abandoned Catholic Church looking downright numinous in the morning light!

And then here’s CharlieHopbrew, watching the same sun sink in the west … all bundled up and anticipatory, as autumn wends its way, sunset by sunset, toward the long dark of winter …

Here’s a piece of a poem for this transitional time of year.

“I have come to a still, but not a deep center,

A point outside the glittering current;

My eyes stare at the bottom of a river,

At the irregular stones, iridescent sandgrains,

My mind moves in more than one place,

In a country half-land, half-water.

I am renewed by death, thought of my death,

The dry scent of a dying garden in September,

The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.

What I love is near at hand,

Always, in earth and air.”

– Theodore Roethke, The Far Field

You can read the whole poem here … worth a visit!