October Country

You can smell the air, sharper, vast as ever, a shift from those humid nights when the elderly sit on their stools outside with paper fans and sandals. Do you remember? Long walks after school, sneakers squelching on damp pavement, the tap of rain on your gore-tex jacket, the trailing snails. Counting leaves tucked to the corners of sidewalks. You’d come home and pick up a pencil and write, a bowl of instant oatmeal half-eaten nearby. The patterns of droplets on windowpanes. And then, rarely, there were the afternoons you’d give up practicing just to mull over that one line, a sliver of Keats: “sinking as the light wind lives or dies.”


today’s post insp. by this and this and this and this (is my autumnal love showing yet because I’m really trying here)

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