typical of fall, with the wind whipping your hair against your face and the leaves blowing in all their sunlit colours whilst the sky itself hovered in layered shades of grey. The type of day where you can feel the life around you ebbing towards sleep but at the same time the air seems full of a sort of spiritual tumult, it's power energizing, magical, glorious. The chill in the air hints of winter to come but the world bursts with the last fruits of harvest.
I love that kind of day. I feel one with the wind, like the crow, spreading my wings to fly, if only I knew how, watching for something bright amidst the grey and tan around me. Or like the goose, rising with my brethren to turn towards the south and warmer climes, our voices raised to mimic the Wild Hunt as we fly into the clouds, following the leader in a perfect 'v'.
On a day like this I can't help but sing the Libana round--'Autumn time, red leaves fall, while the weeping sky looks over all, Demeter sadly walks the land, the dying grasses in Her hand.'
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