Happy Fall
When, out walking, I saw
in the thrift shop window
a metal sign that said
just this: 'Happy Fall'
with a kitschy owl
perched above the double L
I knew I was in strange
territory. Devotees of
the seasons, back from their
summer break, must need
something before Hallowe’en
set seriously in - out of storage
come garden and front-porch
clobber, the pumpkins,
the spooky odds and ends.
But first: Happy Fall,
at least for a minority.
Theologians, are they?
If Adam and Eve hadn’t
brought into the world
all the misery of being fallen,
there’d have been no need
for the Saviour. How fortunate
after all, that mightiest lapse!
So thinking, I turned for home,
exercised, likewise my dog.
The seasons revolved,
observant householders
varied their decor, saying
to each other Happy Holidays.
The town was all lit up,
even the building cranes.
Given the advent of not
just Santa but midwinter
solstice, tizzying up
the place with jazzy lights
made sense as combatting
seasonal affective disorder,
SAD for short. Snow came,
lingered, melted, cleared.
Rain came, and through it all
I walked the dog. Through
dampening dawns and dripping
dusks, on paths equipped
with stumbling blocks and slipping
spots. Take care! we told ourselves.
And just last week, it so fell out,
our first fall befell us - fortunate!
It might have needed first aid,
a stretcher and an ambulance.
All it needed was a stifled cry,
a slow-mo spread-eagling,
a gathering in of spun spectacles.
What a spectacle I’d made of us!
with no one to see, no one running
saying We heard your shout,
are you OK? We’re OK,
we tell the empty street.
The world is all before us,
home not too far away.
Rejoined by the leather leash,
my dog and I with wandering
steps and slow, down Bellevue
Avenue, take our solitary way.
How was it out? the mistress
asks. Rain…fall...happy, we say.
[Seattle, WA, USA]
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