feelings post-equinox

the year endures a cycle of four seasons.
it begins green at the end of its branch, budding and bitter, but ceaselessly grows into its bearings to become sun-soaked and heavy. it swells. after the spring-summer spell it begs to be plucked, relished before growing exhausted and allowing flesh to fall. autumn is when the year is ripe.

as a child, the beginning days of october were always my best. the light of the sun shone softer and all-enveloping, not at all like the sun of summertime. everything came to be simple, richer and more dense. there would be a morning i would wake up and realize at once that the season had changed without my knowing, that what i was waiting for was in fact here already. that's a good feeling.

in more recent memories i'm venturing outside, sleepy-eyed and covered by my cartoonishly characteristic red peacoat, or smoking too many cigarettes on a particular porch of a third-floor apartment building.
and again i'm nostalgia-sick.