I like this place.I like this time of year.And I like this time of day,The way the sun reflects so gentlyOff the bricks of the buildings across the street,Not like the brutal sun of summertime.And on the mountain, The light casts shades Into the crevices and dimples Of the wooded, colored, slopes.And the hush of Autumn blankets everything Here on the street with the peaceThat only visits once per year.I want to wrap it up and carry it Into the cold and clouded Meager days of winter,But I can’t.All the same, it’s precious.How can I possibly complain about anythingWhen there are days like this.

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