Still Fall

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.