First One Fall

I sat on the front porch tonight reading yesterday’s morning paper and unexpectedly witnessed what I’m sure must be the first falling leaf of autumn trail peacefully across the stone gray evening sky.  That’s probably far from truth being that we are barely mid-August, but I’m optimistic.  It’s been a peculiar summer even by ridic ATL standards, with seemingly near constant rain showers and 80 degree day absent humidity nonsense.   I could take or leave summer anyway so that’s fine, but it’s distracting.  Plus I know it’s just another cruel tease perpetuated by this criminal Southern climate and almost guarantees a blurring of the lines between seasons in the coming weeks.  How will Indian Summer know when to do its thing if actual summer never really got organized enough to show up?  Either way, the subversive chill and that single still dead leaf resting silent on perfect green grass tonight makes me question this night’s air. 

It reminds me of bad music played through poor stereo speakers in cheap pickup truck beds and Saturday morning birdsong wakeup calls.  Deep buried bruised souls, frantically bouncing toward one another daring the other one to blink inside a kudzu green field of poignant adolescent forgetfulness.  It conjures images of weekend master plans devised in dimly lit back seat boardrooms and disseminated to the huddled cadre via citizen band radio, gravel back road odysseys to hidden kingdom cocktail parties laced with potential sandpit courtship and bonfire gymnastics. 

This resplendent tentative cool of the night’s air makes a body want to throw on a hoodie and drink bourbon.  Tomorrow is just around the corner and only a shade past yesterday.  I have too many books to read before football season.  I just saw the first one fall though and that is a beautiful amazing thing.