Be Not Idle

I’ve been driving after dark the last two days, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the sights and sounds of late autumn.

Despite summers spent near the shoreline of Marquette, Michigan, and my daily travels near the St. Clair River, I never tire of freighters. There’s something particularly majestic about a freighter at night, the forecastle lit like a small town and – better yet – rising high over the waterfront houses that block the pedestrian’s view. Wednesday night was a real sight: one of the Canadian freighters downbound and unusually low with cargo.

I enjoy the whispering of dry fallen leaves, especially now when the oak leaves are added into the mix. They rattle and scrape along the ground like something alive. It’s especially spooky when one hits the windshield like a brittle moth, startling me.

And then I’m forced to laugh at myself.