Casually watching the sun creep up through the window in my office. It's beating the rain, or so it seems. There's something easy about when it rains in the fall.
Here's November, coming in so meek and sighing. I imagine it always more aggressive and mean, like blowing snow and drastic drops in temperature. It's coming, I know. And I'll anticipate it with as many forced smiles as I can.
The weather, the day, the month, the year. It makes me miss. Simply miss. And wonder too, when we'll quit with the cheeky and quiet reverence and just speak to each other. But then I remember Virginia Woolf saying, nothing is more heavenly than to resist and yield. To yield and to resist.