for most, Fall is a colorful dying our summers are a forever Fall with brown the color of death next to the dry creek the parched grasses stand stiffly, pincushions of auburn bushes have died, preserved as mocha shrubs, lifeless saplings stand with coffee-colored trunks today’s clouds are swirled, cookie cut and stretched, blown apart, twisted the sun, a searing ember in the sky I must have missed the season’s turn from desert beige to the deeper shades of death

we needed the guidance of our parents to help us grow, evolve into young adults no one ever wanted to stay that child living at home under the thumbs and eyes of mom and dad at some point, we needed freedom without oversight, maybe college or a move away, a car, on our own to really start living way way down the line, it was decided that staying home was desirable, asking for and getting any help needed repelling offers to go anywhere I guess change moves in a circl

children can and do get away with quite a bit the old, also, are given a longer leash with their behavior the really old though can be as outrageous as the very young remember back when the bars of the crib would contain our liberty for the longest-lived, sometimes a fenced property won’t hold them they slip through the weakest point when no one is watching something about the human spirit in new souls and wrinkled old souls, before it’s learned then unlearned,