Autumn colors glide up and down the landscape; still animals in the meadows that don’t seem to bother the cold; grazing and looking stupid at me while I pass.
The border, the canal in the valley and poles that mark what is ours and what is theirs in an area that people want unite but separate at the same time. How ridiculous men can be, but nature doesn’t care; it blooms and blossoms, even in autumn.
Some trails still unpaved; for how long still? Down coming water more and more searches for ways to find; end up in rivers on a concrete bed, cascades basements and floods where I live and don’t want to be at times.
But when the sun shines the colors bright and gloom; skies fall in various shades; mainly blue and white, some grey, but like silver roofing where I walk below; climb up and descend to the next valley cut in two by the narrow Jeker river.
A wooden bridge lets me cross with dry and happy feet, ready to stair the ultimate slope for one day; a farmhouse on top, and she signs, offers me a coffee, cream and a rare real French brandy distilled from own grown grapes...
Drunk as a sailor I go off, but stand straight up while leaning on the stick that I found on the long walks up and down the valley-hills. Through autumn colors I glide and find my home and the lazy warmth of central heating…
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