October

A poem I wrote after getting back from the North Shore of Lake Superior:

The days continue too warm for October.
Birches drop round, bright leaves.
Tamarack needles shine softly, like gold.
Out on the great lake, haze hides distance.
Everything is blue, sunlit, almost hot.
I, at the edge of old age, almost wishing
for the comfort of snow-bound winter,
wonder at this land of expanding summer.

As you might be able to tell from this poem, I love fall, though I don't like it this warm. At the same time, my mood responds to light -- which should be obvious, considering how much I use words like 'bright' and 'shine.' (I think Edmund Spenser, author of The Faerie Queene, also had mood swings in response to light, given how lovingly he described light.)

In any case, while I love fall, my mood also drops a bit as the days grow shorter. It makes for an odd combination; and it leads to mulling.