Sounds of Fall

Listening takes practice.  So much competes for the busyness clamoring for each thought.  Listening means that something has to give in.   Quietness.  Silence.  Peace.  

Playgrounds are not quiet, or silent, or peaceful.  Somehow though I was able to listen.  

Fall leaves crunched as kids itching to move ran from slide to swing.  

Springs squeeked on the bridge spanning two climbing towers.

A hawk screeched his piercing cry as he flew above the canopy of trees.

A mother's warning prevented little feet from becoming wet in the creek.  

Stories of castles, motes, and kings emerged out of childhood imaginings.

There were impromptu ball games, investigations of bugs and dirt, escape routes from the castle devised, and big muscles being stretched.  

Our playground adventure began as simply a way to kill time and expend some energy.  It ended with a fresh perspective of moments in time captured by listening.