When Autumn Comes
When autumn sweeps the haze of summer away, when cool air purges the stifling smother of August from my lungs…..I will pause to inhale it in all of its glory. I’ll stroll through the massive white oaks and marvel at the exposed roots of the cypress trees taking a widespread stance as if bracing against a coming gale. Their needles will turn a copper hue before falling to the dry creek beds. I will spend quiet evenings around camp fires with good friends and swap “remember whens” until the harvest moon climbs up from the forest and we fall silent at the grandeur.

 

But first, I need a short nap. Just a little rest to ease the exhaustion of an endless swelter and too many hours fighting to survive in a world that becomes ever more alien to me. Just an hour or so, I’ll feel better, then.

 

It’s dark when I arise. I roll to my feet and worn joints creak and I stretch before walking to the door. As it swings open, the bitter northern gale slaps me with a brutal awakening. With the anguish of one who missed his flight to a fair far away, I realize that autumn has come and gone. The days poured through my fingers in the form of duties, commitments and unfortunate coincidences. I try to console myself with the familiar lie that next year will be different. But then, if you notice that the squealing of the hamster’s wheel has fallen silent, it’s not usually a good sign for the hamster.

By the way, what day is this? Really? Well, happy new year, then. I guess.

Hal Leary