By Anna Van Devender
December 18, 2017
Fall is a time of transition. Over a season, hot turns to cold. The downpours of monsoon summer and the drizzles of winter sandwich multiple months of … that’s the hard part. This year more than most, it has been hard to define fall. The school year began, and my kids and I adjusted better than ever. But it wasn’t fall yet. Fall began, and my students and I celebrated the comparative comfort of outdoor lessons. Beans and corn persisted. Then the cold-weather plants had trouble starting. The dust grew. Fall turned into waiting. In the waiting, the following three poems also grew.