Staring at the autumn sky and reciting the Vagabond Song as I walk through the park (poem is below....)
Dreaming of staying in bed after several very early mornings wake-up calls from Little One. "I finished sleeping!" she hollers at 4am, 5am, we're lucky if it's 6am.
And the poem that is giving rhythm to my footsteps right now...
A Vagabond Song by Bliss Carmen
There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.