A Cool Fall Evening

     Summer’s sweltering heat forgotten, I sit with jacket and gloves, wool hat fit over cold ears and watch the steam swirl away from a warming cup of coffee.  Falls majesty is creatively painted in quilt patterns of oranges, yellows, greens, and maroon trees blanketing the surrounding hills, opening only occasionally to peek their heads out from the comforting foliage.

     I’m not sure I could say it enough:  I love fall.  I love getting to wrap comforting warm clothes around me as if they were a lovers embrace that I get to carry around with me at all times, even in public without shame of being too affectionate.  The arms are not a woman’s but a cotton button-up long sleeve shirt covered over partially by a heavy jean jacket.  My one shot at being the Marlboro Man and not getting cancer.  I don’t need a cigarette as I can see the smoke filling the air with every breath I exhale without one.  It’s cold outside.  My face only peeks out of the layers of comfort I’ve wrapped around myself similar to the houses on the hill.  My cheeks and nose are cold but the rest is inside its own world of safety, snuggled tight.

     Inside I can hear the muffled laughter of my children playing.  Porch lights are becoming visible as the world begins to dim.  The American Flag is gently waving, dancing with an invisible partner to a patriotic tune only it can hear.

     The street lamp has just come to life.  It’s the hour when magic happens in fairy tales, lovers dare a kiss, and silly men filled with nostalgia attempt to write something poetic.

     It’s also the time when if one listens closely they can hear the hushed whisper of the biting wind telling them that peace is worthwhile, good can still be found in a harsh world, and life is worth another sunrise.  It’s a good hour, and as my light finally goes to sleep I write the final lines in the dark looking up to realize, by writing and not simply experiencing…I’ve missed it.