The Depth of Fall

Fall is deep. Unlike Winter, which is shallow, the icy cold chilling your bones. You could never go deep enough to get warm. Unlike Summer, when the heat is so oppressive, a heavy weight, that the very idea of depth is abhorrent. Spring, with everything blooming and the showers of color, speaks of Life, everything is light and free. But Fall. Fall is Deep. Like an ancient well, cool to the touch, full of history and meaning, but only if you search it out. You can find warmth in sweatshirts and jeans; comfort. Fall is an extension of the best hug you've ever had.

There is another aura about Fall that makes me love it. The Melancholiness. While there is so much loveliness - the break from the heat and humidity of Summer, the Leaves turning, the Air crisping, there is always a sense of longing, a creeping sadness or gloom that descends throughout the passing of this season. The gloom is, of course in part, the promise of Winter.

I haven't figured out if it is the drawing to a close of the year that brings on the sadness, or something greater, something deeper that speaks to the heart and soul. So much has been accomplished by this time of th year, making it, also, a time of reflection. For some, it might bring a sense of awe or joy, but for others, there is so much left to do and not enough time. Before Winter and the suffocating depth of darkness every day.

I wonder if there is a significant percentage of those born in the Fall who are Melancholies. I am. My cousin is (or so I think, since she and I are near duplicates of each other). There are more. My best friend. I could go on, but I'll stop there.

Today I was searching for poems about September, because I love this month and I was in need of some good poetry. I didn't really find anything online worth documenting here, so I asked Kelly to write me a September poem.

In September
they come back. The locusts
and the undergraduates and
that
one
crazy
lady
who carries carrot cookies in a plastic
department store bag. It is
the start of a year, like
Fiscal or
Chinese New. When it's over they
will leave and she will
find more cookies.

Please feel free to leave your September poem with me. I promise to appreciate it.