To find a writing topic this morning, I didn't have to look far. I saw it outside when I opened the patio door. Up here from the third floor I see stretches of trees and roads on a flat top mountain, the Grand Mesa.


I'm too far away to see its hundreds of lakes. I pour another cup of coffee and look out the window again.

Closer than the Mesa, a gentle breeze ruffles leaves clinging to a grove of Aspens. Their white trunks remind me of leathery skin. The least air movement makes them tremble. Soon they will drape themselves in beauty and pour out their last breaths of life. I shudder a little too, not eager for winter winds, but ready for Autumn.