September

Even though I am a creature of habit, cheerfully circling through my quotidian repetitions, in September something deeply animal in me lifts its nose and sniffs and becomes restless and starts preparing for a journey. Today it was the frozen white explosion of milkweed pods in a neighborhood garden that set off a buzzing exhilaration in every synapse. My skin, my organs, the blood threading through my veins all seemed to be singing: Something is Beginning! It doesn’t matter what the something is. I don’t have to know. I trust the body’s jubilance. It will feel its way along the old paths to what is perfect and new.

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