Fall

It's the smell of the month, the look of it, that I sure'n know what season it's all gonna be.

Ya see, I've heard the creaks b'fore. Listen like a chorus from one porch way on down 'long the block. Creak-creak. Long curves of wood setting feet back and forth, tapp'n not with impatience, for nobody is anxious for those days when the grave man sets his shovel rest'n on the ground while ya'll be tak'n a dirt nap. Naw. Those wooden rock'n feet, that long curved seat back a-cradl'n tired bones, it sets a patience and peace into old bodies. Creak-creak. My rocking chair joins in the chorus, as I sits back, stare'n at the trees, stare'n at the leaves.

It's the smell. It's the look. It sets my mind a-think'n back.

Can feel those leaves a-crunch'n under tennies, raggedy-soles slapp'n down, turning to dust what was once alive. Mounds piled high with fall leaves. Other kids laughing. Jump'n. Crunch'n. Gold and orange and red husks. Children play'n with death and have'n a fine time at it.

Not something people think about while young. Only in those tired days of arthritis sett'n in, of eyes yellow'n and ankles swoll'n and wonder'n when the ambulance will come a-roll'n by as ya hear the phone a-ringing telling ya it was one of ya'll old buddies visiting his maker at last. That's the time ya'll think of such things.

Fall reminds ya'll of that. Even the name suggests it. Fall. Noth'n good comes from it. A fall from pride. A fall from power. A fall that physically harms ya. A fall'n out of love.

Fall. That time of season. Of decayed leaves and misspent youth. Remember'n of times long past ya can't return to...

Yet. It can mean a-moren that. Even seeing those bare limbs of trees like skeletons claw'n at the sky, ya'll know what can a-wait. Someth'n new a-budding. Someth'n new a-coming 'round the corner. Have to get rid of the old and welcome in the new. Every opportunity to come across 'nother old buddy, remember'n the times of years past, of years when as children we jumped into those leaves know'n a grand future a-waited us. Crisp and clean and colorful look'n like those leaves we jumped in. The smell sett'n our senses into welcom'n someth'n new.

Autumn. Perhaps that's what I should be a-think'n. Autumn, where'n we cherish the old yet shouldn't go all dwell'n on it in sadness like dead forgotten leaves. Expect someth'n better to come no matter if ya'll a child or in ya'lls old age. Enjoy the life a'round ya even when death can be so close - like children play'n in dead leaves. Like old rock'n chairs creak'n while ambulances roll on by and phones a-ring'n. 'Cause a new adventure can come on. New friends. New loves. New leaves to jump into when the seasons come a-roll'n 'round.

The creak'n and the crunch'n. It always reminds me of the true meaning of life. Enjoy ya'll  self and the newness that a-awaits.