Autumnal

The day was the sixth day of the month of September. The air was cooler than normal for that time of the cycle of the seasons. This was hardly a bad thing. Fall was calling out and announcing its arrival. "Are you prepared?" It asked the unprepared people who were still blissfully unaware of summer's approaching adieu.

The night was one for dreams of futures and falling leaves. No reminiscing here. No memories. Give no thought to your past days, weeks, or years. Find a love more stable than summer flings. There is nothing here that isn't here. No other thoughts to think. No other air to breathe. Only these leaves settling on you with their colored wings. Only the crisp wind and the smoke of fires sending up towers to the night sky.

The boy was not so much a boy, but hardly could be called a man. He was glad of his beard and its warm hugs. Still more glad of headphones singing of sycamore trees and colors that lacked. He felt carpets of crunching leaves beneath his feet. He wore red flannel for the warmth of the thing. He held a cup of tea for the steam rising from its top. He clutched the hand of a girl for the love that reached out to him through her fingers. It was all there, waiting to be noticed by him and impossible to ignore.

The tree was a home away from home with golden robes of leaves adorning its frame. They met there. The twigs with their brittle snaps. The couple with their flourishing love. The cup of tea and his flannel shirt and her warm sweater. This is where home met them with open arms. The sun would visit them on occasion, acting the part of a pleasant house-guest. 

The day was nearer to a dream than a surety. The night was mostly imaginations bubbling over into the stark depths of real life. It was still there, just out of limb's reach. Perhaps, if they just could bide their time. Maybe the day was nearer to fingers entwined together than fingers crossed. And maybe autumn longed for them as they longed for it.