“When you’re young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can’t make up their minds. Perhaps it’s a way of admitting that things can’t ever bear the same certainty again.” ~ Julian Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot

The intentions of summer
slip away,
quietly and with dignity.
The cool nights find us reaching for more blankets,
rather than closing the windows
on the cool breeze which finds its way inside.
We wake, covers pulled up to our chins,
and are dismayed when suddenly
our days don't seem long enough.

Sudenly the TV is back on,
and we sit and try to give it our full attention.
a blanket wrapped around our legs,
the dog curled up between us.
We watch as fall walks gently towards us
getting ready to put on her show.
and soon we will settle in with books and popcorn,
as the glow of the fire warms us.
We will open our hearts and savor the new season,
and all it has to offer, giving gratitude that we are here,
once again, to participate.