When I describe the air in the current season I never have the words to Articulate This feeling
Fall
Autumn
Harvest
All hallows
A Season To Be Thankful
The corn
ready to be cut
Or perhaps molded into a maze for the little ones
Pumpkins
Full of spice and flavor for you to smell
Or maybe just to be severed for your porch
The air
Is crisp, refreshing
When you say “it’s nice outside,” this is to what you refer
Is nippy, full
On the edge of Sweaters
     On days I have time I like to lay in the center of the field after practice and breathe
      The air restores my soul, my hope
If nothing else, I love
The air

IF NOTHING ELSE I LOVE
..THE AIR
.
and maybe you:)

i giggle as i jump towards
the captivating light.
blinking, blinking,
it ***** me in
like juice from an orange.

Orange-Juice
tastes nice:
sweet,
hydrating,
with tiny nourishing pips
which squish on my tongue
as I swallow.

All dressed up and waiting for summer,
a summer as strong and as fresh
as this perennial dress.

All made up and ready for life,
a life as bright and as perfumed
as this fragrant woman waiting to bloom.

'Wake me when summer comes.
'Stir me when the sweet zest rises and the sun can kiss me as with the dawn.'

Is there no understanding of history today
Are we going into a real Clockwork Orange
Why do we as people, have to repeat and believe
We repeat the worst historical times; blaming them on cycles
Cycles that we create in the name of anything, but the truth
We believe whatever feels right to our own personal thoughts
Beliefs, that are created out of misunderstood words and actions
Why, oh why, can't we ever learn
Why can't we do the right and truthful thing...?

Nobody was injured during this BRAIN RANT!!!
Agree or not...  I don't give a sh}¥
Not really true because this made me cry
Well not cry.  I just laughed so hard I cried
Just can't take the craziness without a little BRAIN RANT!
Sorry....  No, I'm not.  Felt good!

“It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you watch them on a screen.”
― anthony burgess, A Clockwork Orange

Brian Hill - 2019 # 200

When you run your fingers through his hair,
They burn as hot as the orange strands
That streak through the red of his locks
Which are too warm these fall nights.

You’re not sure when you realized that
He wasn’t like you,
Human and soft enough to be pricked by the knife’s edge
That he playfully dragged across his tongue
While looking at you with eyes that refracted the amber light of his soul.

He’s not sure when he realized that he’d stay,
Far past the summer when you met
On the sandy banks of the lake that swallowed light
Until it was the same deep blue of your eyes,
Binding him to your side long after the sun set
And the rays upon the bed’s sheets had faded
Into a warm glow in the dark.

When he runs his hands over your toes,
Cooled by the coming winter
That wraps you up in wool sweaters
And leaves you huffing as he walks by in only jeans,
He realizes that he dare not leave
You to grow cold these coming nights.