pensive sundae ix

i love listening to the rain outside my window. which, i suppose, is a good thing, considering where i live. the other night i was lying in the tub in the dark, with the big window open, listening to the biggest rainstorm we've had in months. it was so soothing... there's nothing like the sound of running water to really bring me back to earth. strange for a fire sign, huh?

everybody is talking, lately, about the advent of fall... crisp cool mornings, leaves on the ground, brisk walks... i miss fall up north- you'd wake up in the morning and the world is covered in frost and sunshine, and the air is kissed with a hint of wood smoke. by mid morning the air has warmed and you are wondering what possessed you to bring this warm sweater. my favourite thing about fall, though, is the puddles that were not very deep - they've frozen into this thin layer of glass the consistency of movie windows. when you step on them they shatter and crack into a thousand pieces and the sound resonates through the morning and the water has magically disappeared. i used to walk on the street rather than the sidewalk on my way to school - the best place to find these little heavens is right against the curb in the rain gutter. my sister and i would race to see who got to crack them first.

what will be my new beginning this fall? it is funny because for most of the summer i thought i knew... within the last month all of that has changed, and changed, and changed again. i want to crack the ice on my life... shatter it with my red boots and race to the next puddle, till the surfaces on the path are no longer smooth and serene and the water can rush back in. i want to unwrap the warm scarf from my neck and lift my face to the unwarm sunshine. i want to undo my coat and let the chill air run its fingers over my skin, lifting my nipples and the hair on my arms and reminding me i'm alive.