Delicate things are pretty - cute, even,
but you are not delicate.
You are wild and lewd and unpredictable.
You are breathtaking.
You are beautiful.
Fall is a beautiful, bountiful time of year. It is one of my favorite times, though not nearly so favored as spring. The changes are what I find so fascinating, the shifting from one to another. Like me, a metamorphosis that is impossible to define but beautiful to witness.
But the fall colors, those are my colors. The brilliant hues of gold and russet and amber. The perfect setting for the lovely mottled gold of my coat, the sleekness of my black tresses, the purity of the white perforating it all. A brilliant combination that complements me in ways few things ever could. All things I can see so easily, can admire in ways others can’t.
And there, just before me, is another such creature. A creature of vibrant red and glistening black. For whatever reason, I am drawn to those colors, the stark and brilliant contrast that cannot help but to draw the eye. And when one has an extra eye to draw, it is all the more noticeable.
At first I do not think too much of it, she is just another passing figure, albeit one that draws the attention. But then the ember is approaching me, and I am intrigued. Would she behold my true beauty, or would she mock me like so many before her (though I know it is only the thoughts of small minds, it stings nevertheless). Instead, she asks me a question. Something no one has ever thought to ask before.
In my surprise, I give the only answer I can think of on such short notice. “Everything.” But then, as the bewilderment settles, I reconsider my answer. In the end though, I leave it as it is, for it is, in essence, true. Instead, I offer her a smile, one winsome and true. “I see you. Who are you?”
Giohde