Harvest Moon

Early this morning, I wake up from dozens of dreams. I can't remember any of them. Oh well. They might come to me later. These autumn mornings differ from those of summer. It feels darker than it is because the sun takes a while to show its face. Lowly it hangs over Berkeley while Oakland-bound jets graze a few of its rays. It hasn't yet kissed the buildings on the west side of the street, making mine appear on their paint, as a shadow. Hovering in the sky during descent, where did passengers spend their weeks, their days, their last-night. I was sleeping.

I wake up and open the blinds, first thing. No sun, not yet. I make coffee and, when it's ready, I pour it into my new favorite mug from an apple orchard in Maine. My Dad got it for me on his last visit. The light greets the west and says hello. They better get to know each other. It will be setting there, as we surely know.

Neil Young makes a good soundtrack for mornings like this. It reminds me of that graceful film from a few years ago, "Away From Her." Julie Christie plays a woman with Alzheimer's. She struggles as the disease fails her, as does her loving husband. Against the Canadian landscape of winter and memory, Neil Young songs play. They evoke heart break, heart ache, heart warmth. The whole time, we know, she is losing something. At the same time, she is so full of beauty. She is full of many springs, summers, falls and winters, as she cross-country skies though the snow.