For the past three days it�s looked as if it might rain. As if the clouds were waiting for just the right second to release a deluge, but it�s not rain that holds itself aloft in the clouds, but autumn.
Autumn is my memory keeper�between its pages I�ve pressed flowers, photographs of lovers, and letters turned yellow with time. Many of the pages hold so many notes in their margins that the original text will never be read again.
I feel that my soul is autumn or that autumn is my soul released, and I am the blue-purple behind the burnt sienna in an October sunset. My usually fluttered mind calms itself during these months before winter, but behind the calm, is expectancy. I hold my breath knowing that this autumn will be different than any other autumn I�ve ever experienced.