October 28th, 2023
It’s properly autumn now. The kind that actually means it. Cold mornings, the smell of woodsmoke, leaves coming down faster than they went up.
I walked through the park today, and the trees were doing that thing where they can’t decide between gold and red and end up being both at once, and I stood there longer than I needed to.
I had the strangest want.
To stand underneath a sky that can’t make up its mind. Spring trees on one side with that fresh, almost embarrassingly hopeful green, the kind that looks like it’s trying too hard and somehow gets away with it.
Autumn trees on the other, gold and rust and red, that gorgeous, inevitable burn of something at its most beautiful right before it lets go.
Both at once, overhead.
Impossible.
The kind of thing that can’t exist anywhere outside of a dream or a painting or the specific madness of wanting something with no logical basis whatsoever.
But God, imagine looking up.