Day #307: Photos, Poem and Elections

# 307

Indian Summer

There are oak leaves twice the normal size now brown and ready to drop. 

The edge of the river by the Bookmill is a steep slope covered in trees,

bushes, and vines, now lit by the bright mid afternoon sun of late fall. 

The sound of the river constant, loud and indistinguishable

as the sound of consistent water flowing off of fallen logs and rock beds. 

What I see and what I hear contradict each other,

give information that does not actually coincide,

but when taken in as a whole, made a whole, made one big picture

wraps around embracing all the senses.

 I am in a wooden building where sun shines through large windows that face

the river.  The sky is a deep blue and the sun shines bright,

 but shadows are prevalent, it is not the 3 o'clock sun

of a summer's afternoon on the beach.  It is the sun

of a late afternoon towards the end of the year, temporarily warming

the air, causing eyes to droop and house flies to try to buzz

An unusual temperature for November, warm enough

to sit outside and eat our lunch, warm enough

to leave the jacket in the car.  A final gasp, a final push

before the winds begin to howl and the snow flies.

Election Day 2010

Election Day 2015 (Do we have a new mayor?)