Fall is my absolute favorite. Really, it is. But I can’t help but feeling like this summer was such a fleeting thing. I find myself holding onto these pockets of light, of color, these moments that were here and then gone. I’m reminded of this poem from the unmistakable Rita Dove:
Happenstance, Rita Dove
When you appeared it was as if
magnets cleared the air.
I had never seen that smile before
or your hair, flying silver. Someone
waving goodbye, she was silver, too.
Of course you didn’t see me.
I called softly so you could choose
not to answer—then called again.
You turned in the light, your eyes
seeking your name.
All the best,