I sit in a comfortable room, and open a window to let the frigid air rush
in. This is Autumn. Gold, and red color the air. Orange and brown color the
night sky. Harvest, gifts, chills, spice, masks, affection. This is Autumn.
Moon, water, grass, dirt, patience, trust, warmth, open, black. Where is
Fall when it is summer? Where is Fall when I am crying for it in the dark.
The nights of mystery, of hot apple cider, of star-gazing, and the brutal
honesty and lies? Where am I waiting for Autumn? Where am I when I watch
you from behind this mask which covers my face. Where are you moon, where
are you orange pumpkin?