Annie sat by open window reading as wind of autumn air filled and changed spirit in room. Cool breath of the wind struck over face, fluttering curtains, hair and book page edges as her body warmed beneath sweater and patterned poncho frock.
Between turnings of book’s pages, she observed sky’s change across the autumn eve: beginning blue changed with hint of yellow sky-haze that strengthened into gold then after rose and salmon wisps that deepened blue, losing red and fire’s flame, until becoming night.
The story read as skyline changed, each with chapters of subtle and large revelations; and when each were ended, she sat alone touched by the cool of night, body warmed within in guarding layers of her garments.
Outside, streetlights shone, artificial cast strong enough for the blighting of stars and the casting of street-level shadows of small figures made to seem more. Wind spoke through the drying and changing leaves, and Annie felt the beginning of season’s depression at the departure of world’s living green.
Beside the open window, a potted vine fell from sill, sustained in green with the warmth and light of indoors’ false, forever spring. She stared at the vine and knew herself the same within, alive in an artificial until all returned as true in restoration of the spring.
She listened to the speaking wind as it touched her open face, and in its sensing, she rose and lit a candle across the room perceiving different view. Lighting wick, a golden thought took in crown of illuminated mind. In the wind-flicker of wick’s glow, Annie’s mind lit in the warmth of a candle-dance dream. In gold-light crown over autumn-alabaster skin, she saw all the vision clear.