A MATTER OF TIME
All the spiders are coming inside, it must be fall. All the skeeter-eaters, too. And the flies come in, but they’re so slow and lethargic that it’s easy to swat them or blow them back outside. Everything looks yellow-tinged, insect-eaten, wilty. The storks are in the harvested fields, eating worms, every morning in the fog. The leaves aren’t falling yet but it feels like just a matter of time. Everything boils down to a matter of time, doesn’t it? It’s September already. Whether or not it’s officially fall, September heralds the beginning of the end of the year. Out of...