There’s a certain smell to it.
Burning leaves season the air,
And make me think of bonfires,
No responsibilities, drinking again.
***
It tastes like coffee on a screened-in porch,
The sweet, wetness of fog on my tongue.
And it makes me want to take an early run
Around a neighborhood that recognizes my route.
***
The sound of an opening garage door and a barking dog
Can make me feel as though
I haven’t completed a to-do list
Left for me on a lazy weekend.
***
It feels like October mornings.
The heavy coolness of a car parked in the shade
Lends thoughts of driving friends to school
And hearing their thanksgivings for seat warmers.
***
I see it in the crow’s feet of a parent’s laugh,
And somehow in the silvering of hair.
It makes me want to stay
And relearn everything at which I used to roll my eyes.
