the first shiver

Once upon a time a season changed perceptibly from the hot passionate roller coaster of summer to the sober, pensive, emotionally raw fall. The people walking under the trees felt the leaves begin to die, though nothing let go yet. Nothing withered visibly. It was merely a change in the air, a death of such smallness, nobody actually registered what it was. Only they began stuffing sweatshirts and cardigans into the backseats of their cars next to balled up beach towels and sandy sticky grocery bags.
The ice cream truck circles the playground, a great white shark, and the music tinkles eerily, but the children cling to their mother's legs, and the toys in their hands tremble a little, but then they turn back to the game and the chalked out pavement, and the man behind the wheel knows his dominion is coming to an end.
It is this grand switchover that is my favorite time of year.
I love what power the wind begins to threaten.
It gets so strong and mischevious, pulling dogs down alleyways, birds like paper trash flapping and darting between branches and cars.
Couples stroll down the brick walkways, the heat no longer separating them with a layer of disgust, they let their bodies drift a little closer. She lets the breeze coil her hair around her and in his eyes. He lets the jacket whip around him, and thrill his arms with an idea of how much wings could weigh. They lean toward each other, wrap around like garments, button limb to limb and something in the air makes the other smell like promise and excitement and fear and plummeting and before the stomach can drop much further the kiss is already happening. Stunning. It's still out there. It's still making everyone crazy. It's just different. Falling in love in autumn is like nothing else in the world.
I miss maine at this time more than anything else.


Ah...such a good time to listen to the cure and daydream.
For now...i take it. The first shiver. And welcome it like the return of an old friend.