Too Long

It's been too long, but I just opened up the next chapter of Zinn's History. It's a very slow day at work because our money-making machine is down. Before I get to Zinn, though, I wanted to share my narcissistic reflections on the season, on myself, on my interactions with people. Conversations I've had with men and women lately have led me to this perfect storm of self:

First Draft

Fall is the season
when men fall in love with me
because
that's when I wear what I love,
three-quarter length shirts that accent my shoulders,
jackets and cardigans with pockets.
That's when I become most alive, most
myself, aware
of the turning of the seasons.
Nature's lurch toward slumber,
adorned with burnt umber. My
body becomes alive, weather cool enough
to stroll in, to slim down,
the equinox my equilibrium
My balance happens when the earth tilts in
such a way that shadows
walk with me in late afternoons,
mornings are crisp and full of possibility,
noons invite ecstatic walks and song.
Autumn is when school starts, and
whether I'm a student in a classroom
or just mimic the course rhythms internal, I
love to learn this time of year,
before winter slumbers, which require
the intimacy that happens after the fall
ing in love, the snuggles under covers,
long conversations in the long nights.
Autumn is before the settling down.
It is the time of change, when all
doors are open.