I am awake with the birds early this morning. In fact a guy might think he were again young in springtime, but I know it isn’t spring. Or do I?
Outside sounds like spring. The birds there sing and tweet as if it were an early May morning and a season of worm-hunting and fly-catching were about to commence. Just now, one giddy bird — and I mean just now — hit my bedroom window. Birds like my bedroom, apparently…and I think they do.
For my part, fall has always been my spring season. I am a little birdy, as in bird-like. Good things start in the fall. Always have, ever since my memories begin.
Jobs, luck, friendships, romance, school, new cars…all of these things almost exclusively begin in the fall for me; I cannot recall an exception. In fact I get slightly nervous in the fall. I know my life is safe in winter, spring, or summer, but if we are talking about the ultimate new beginning, I suppose dying would be it.
Imagine the irony if I catch myself on the other side one day blogging: I always seem to slip into paradise in the fall. Or maybe better, I always slip into paradise after the fall.
Well, let’s not find out quite yet. I have a lot of unfinished work here. First off, I could use a little of that autumnal luck that once upon a time seemed to come my way as readily as a November storm. Let’s call out for it: “Here, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky…here boy.”
And work? Let’s just see what luck has to say about that. As I slip into the Willy Loman days, perhaps it is time to find a job. Something exciting. I’d like to raise chickens and be passionate about mushrooms.
Romance? It’s fall. My pheremones kick in. I start tying a cloves of garlic around my throat as a preventive measure. If I could only find someone who…well…could enjoy the birds, see the future, and trusted in good things, like luck and chilly autumn days.
Friendships? Who needs friends. That’s what books and bars are for. Right?
New car? No, I like my old Ford Explorer. It is the closest thing I have to an old boat and I like boats. I am proud of it, in an awkward way. She’s kind of like and old mule. Works hard, steady, never complains — but requires attention and some maintenance — you can see what a guy might fall in love with his car, can’t you? I think I’ll finally name the old Explorer. Rocinante seems right.
I might be unsure where I fall in the seasons, but let’s hope it is fall. I am in the mood for a new beginning. Even the crows are circling now offering some encouragement. A good omen.
- The Passing of Seasons (writingyourdestiny.com)
- Fall, Y’all (allisonpurves.wordpress.com)
- The birds are back (randomthoughtsfrommidlife.wordpress.com)
- A Fall Poem (solaceandjoy.wordpress.com)
- Welcome Magical Autumn! (thegreensunshine.wordpress.com)
- Fall Trends: Birds of Paradise (fashionwashere.net)