September's willing tool

This time of year always tricks me. Chilly, wet mornings followed by the stunning, enveloping warmth of the most perfect days. I am a willing participant, certainly, and buy the cool morning package as a good reason to pull out the new lambswool sweater I've been saving all summer and to slip on the schoolgirl Mary Janes with the authoritative heel and the pinchy toe.

The morning seems autumnal...I'm waiting for the bus with my apple-red schoolbag and my apple-green iPod, it's chilly and the dew catches my ankles as I walk to work. By ten, the moisture has steamed away. By noon, I'm flushed and irritated.

It's worth it, though. The light...the light is amazing and so solid this time of year. I watch it settle through through the trees and become a presence on the sidewalk, and I turn my face to the impossible sky and absorb as much as I can through my face and my hands and my bare knees.

"Trick me," I say.
"Tell me morning-after lies. I don't care."

If only for this...to feel this day on my body.
This one day repays all.