Fall has always been my favorite season. There is something about that first chill in the air, wondering if this will be the last lawn mowing of the season, or if the leaves will still be on the trees next weekend, that makes us stop and savor the brilliant colors, and the beauty around us, especially here in Western New York.

It’s that balancing act between summer and winter that makes fall so poignant: we never know just how long it will last. But more than anything it’s the smells of fall that bring it home for me; the sweetness of the leaves crunching underfoot, of apples ripening in the sun, and bonfires springing up everywhere. We cherish what little time we have left with the sun still relatively high in the sky.

It’s that desperate need to keep fall alive that inspired this poem, “Breath Of Autumn.”

A wonder in the air tonight
As potent as a young boy’s memory
What lungs can hold autumn?

A sweet fall fragrance
Of moist earth
And passing leaves
A bite, a nip, a hint
of what
I’m not ready for

To hold this
To breathe this
fleeting sweetness

Postpone tomorrow
Freeze

But cold, crisp, unbidden
It will come

The night is changed
A breath of autumn remains

–Brian

Dad started me reading “The Classics” at an early age. I was too young to truly understand the deeper meaning in Hemingway’s The Old Man And The Sea, but I distinctly remember doing a book report on it in 3rd grade, and seeing Mrs. Schmidt’s puzzled expression when I turned it in. “You read ‘The Old Man And The Sea’ by Hemingway?” she asked. Yes, I replied, giving her a brief synopsis of the plot, which to Hemingway’s credit wasn’t too hard for a 3rd grader to follow, symbolism be damned; an old man caught a big fish!