each good rain

Oh fall. You arrive, the leaves barely begin to change, and then (before a girl can say, Isn't fall grand??) the leaves billow down in yellow sheets. Sitting by my dark window tonight, I cannot tell if I'm hearing rain or falling leaves and acorns. Autumn is loud and powerful and quiet and quick and leaves everyone wanting a little bit more.

(Across the street from my office window is the most glorious red and yellow tree, and its leaves are all pooled around its base and all I want to do is throw on a scarf and jump right in, creating a colorful chaos. If you are similarly inclined when you see large piles of fallen leaves, we should be friends.)