It seems that during this fallen month the light has been impatient to descend from the sky, from its burning home, the dying summer planet. Before the horizon melts into continents of bronze and crimson – a passionate cartography – the radiance has already settled like beads of sweat, like a string of pearls, on all earthly, waiting objects.
A telephone wire, drumming with voices, is transformed into an illuminated rope – a shining cord eager to decorate the chattering world in its holiday embrace. It stretches for miles, a carefree reminder that the day is weary, the year is ending and a new season has arrived, coating the months in droplets of its sweet, golden light.
The overeager radiance wraps around the lines like Autumn’s DNA, rich and bright. It glows with life: linked baubles with the veneer of harvests, of feasts…an alchemy of joy. In that time of year when both sun and moon appear at once in the sky – the one growing weaker as the other becomes stronger – light becomes a solid, thick with color and meaning. It merges with the earth, it sinks into the ground, and makes the world a golden circle of celebration.