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09.11.98
Planning for these days is difficult.
Mornings are always crisp.
Afternoons are breezy or still, hot or cool, sunny or cloudy, wet or dry.
I roll a pair of mental dice and grab an outfit. I hedge my bets with a packable rain jacket.
The trees are still dressed in green, though the ground is slowly collecting yellowed leaves.
Public school is in session. Every day on the trip to work, I roll by high school students making their tired way to class.
The bells ring in the churches every hour on the hour, like they have for as long as I can remember.
I just don't seem to notice until September.
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