photo: Mount Royal, fall, light, some leaves fall, others remain, like friendships, but those that remain shine all the brighter
you have to know how to let
some memories evaporate
even if incarnated
in worn-out friendships
you look at them, you don’t want to let them gp
but they cannot be played over and over again
like old TV shows
of detectives wearing tired trench coats
Photo: An autumn tree near my home in Nelson
I got up one morning, and there it was, autumn, I mean, and trees in their new colours. The morning air was also fresh, the light was different and created melancholy in the air. In the sun, it’s a magical season, but there’s also the rain that’s going to come (for which farmers will be grateful), chilly mornings, the four seasons in twenty-four hours and the addition of merino, wool socks and the definite sense that time is passing.
if I had a house, it would be made of wood and it would be pink, it would smell of childhood, it wouldn't be too big, it would creak a little, and when entering from the back door, it would smell of fire. 
I will bow down to the time: a woolen ball that tumbles from intermingled threads. At the bottom of the hill, I will read very long words that are not often spoken until Sunday. Then I will rest.