i'll miss seeing the grounds crew raking up leaves on my lawn and secretly desiring to ask them to pile them up for me so i can jump in them. i'd offer to help clean up. promise.
i'll miss the strangely canted light, both warm and cold, that slowly steps away from the northern hemisphere: not quite here but not quite gone.
i'll miss the feel of autumn nights--the departing warmness, the ghosts behind every tree rendered nearly skeletal. like a summer night with its skin peeled, shivering reality--not yet the death and incubation that is winter, but an extinguishing of the wildfire that was summer. and if summer was a wildfire and winter will be a cold, moonlit darkness, then autumn is a candle, one final flickering flame of breathtaking color before the haunting smoke.
besides, the heavy snowfalls of winter usually prevent access to the canyon, which is really the worst sadness of all.
woo trick-or-treating tonight! so what if i'm 18? i need my sugar too.
window -- the album leaf
road -- nick drake
first breath after coma -- explosions in the sky
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