See the children run as the sun goes down/As you lie in fields of gold

I love seasons. Today is one of those days that just feels like fall, and it's all I can think about. You can feel Winter around the corner; it makes me want to write poetry. And maybe I will. But it got me thinking about all the patterns of the year. So here is what I think of each season. There are a few days of the year that are "season days," when I am filled with joy and frolicking; my heart overflowing with bubbling and my head overflowing with thoughts of the world at the instant time.
First there are the summer days. The days filled with some haze and heat. My legs get coated with sunscreen and sweat and dust, from tilth and bike rides. Strawberries and Pistou and Lemonade and Fresh Berries for breakfast. summer days are kind of annoying, in a way, but feel great once you're showered and wearing a lot less than before. then i usually dance around. these are the kind of days when i go to the library and read three books there, return four, and bring six home. i have goals and aspirations and spend hours on the phone. these days smell like barbecue and smoke and complaining about family hikes. and they end with the painful, ticklish shock of a cold hose or sprinkler.
then there are the autumn days. the ones where you can hear the wind in the chimney and people light candles and it smells like wet leaves and smoke and baking squash. the ones where you are cold and glad to come inside where you can see the light on in the house.