STORIES: A Seasonal Life (Beginning, Part I)

It is early morning in October. The sunrise fights the moon for my attention as I sit upon my back step in my robe and practice dying; exhaling in a long stream of white smoke that blots out treetops as it drifts across the horizon. For me this is the only peaceful time of day, so I linger to enjoy it; drain the last life-giving drop of coffee from my cup. In nature’s daily battle, the sun again has won. Now it touches the trees to turn on Christmas lights of autumn orange, yellow and flame. I rise as the sun, but I am not. In this life I am the moon, and like it, will not completely fade away when facing the blazing power that threatens me. I take one last full deep breath of morning, and go inside my house to wake the others.