The Autumn Of Our Discontent

Please be patient as fall starts out with the hyperbolic beauty that sometimes overwhelms the senses. Eventually it settles into a harsh pragmatic reality.

The juice of the perfect Winesap apple dripped down her chin. The tartness quietly tickled her tongue. She sat on the bench and enjoyed the peculiar angle of the sun navigating its’ way through the yellow and red elm leaves staring back at her. Almost embarrassed and blushing was that tree as it had been the first to lose the not winnable battle with the lessening of sunlight hours. These minutes are slipping away every single day. There sits a single solitary tomato holding on for dear life relishing the last good day of the year.

In the distance a high school marching band practices for this week’s half time show, Or maybe she imagined this. A squirrel at the end of the yard buried one last walnut. A slow steady drizzle started to fall.

And back to our reality where it turns out our lying narcissistic, fascist president is just a broke father of five kids by three different women, living in public housing & dodging paying his taxes.

It is our Autumn of discontent.

We can still make it pretty damn special.

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