Fashionably Late

Fall usually prefers to be fashionably late in California, just like everyone else here, I guess. Even later along the coast. Of course. When she finally arrives, she'll still get a warm welcome. 

It's fun to talk about. I think most of us have our memories wrapped up in the seasons. It's such a love affair. I know each season has its own special meaning and purpose, but if I may... I think they're like elaborate love letters from God - pouring out his majestic undying love for us. I just enjoy seeing it this way. 

This poem personifies Fall in a slightly different way. But oh, how we love you, Autumn, wherever you are.

Hello, Autumn

Well hello, Autumn, peeking through the lilting limbs.

I see your red-gloved hands swinging in the northern winds.

I remember those golden sleeves from under your cloudy coat,
and you, smiling over a flaxen scarf, reveling in the cold.

Then finally in all your glory, you’re paraded, inciting crowds of adoring trees.
They never do forget you, even after your confetti has been swept from the streets.