And thank you for your arrival, not a minute too soon. September, that month-of-limbo, no longer summer, not quite fall, has meandered away, hands in pockets, shuffling its tapped shoes -- and with it, all the fits and starts and pfffts! of half-done and half-embarked-upon projects.
Clean slate. My favorite month. Birthday month. Halloween. Candy. Time to dust off the free weights and lift. Time to write the book reviews I've committed my hand to for some presses. Time, naturally, to draft new poems, revise others. Time to wash the outside screens and open a few windows. Time, I've decided, is the one thing of absolute value on earth. As you'd suspect, it doesn't run with any type of currency. It appears to prefer a catch-as-catch-can posture. Fine. It's never too late to learn to adjust. What did that good dog teach me? Yes, to be glad. And if I couldn't be glad, then to be indifferent -- but without having an attitude about the indifference. In my house, we say, "I'll have a BLT" -- be like Taz.
There's a coolness in the air and the pecans are brand spanking new, doing their green-before-brown thing. I'm glad about that.