I do love the fall, the current of change, but it's always brought with it a little unsettled feeling. That back to school fear. Vague agita...

These old photos bring it on too. My lineage, the songlines. My grandmother Amelia, her playhouse, Bradford Woods, PA. circa1916

My mother, at 17. There's so much we'll never know, even about our nearest and dearest. Can anyone really tell it all? So many perfect secrets never whispered. Where do they all go? Why don't we take more time, listen harder, ask.

Fall, so many changes. That's when poetry sustains me. It's the ultimate distillation. 100 proof of the things we carry, the secrets we keep.

FINAL NOTATIONS

it will not be simple, it will not be long

it will take little time, it will take all your thought

it will take all your heart, it will take all your breath

it will be short, it will not be simple

it will touch through your ribs, it will take all your heart

it will not be long, it will occupy your thought

as a city is occupied, as a bed is occupied

it will take all your flesh, it will not be simple

You are coming into us who cannot withstand you

you are coming into us who never wanted to withstand you

you are taking parts of us into places never planned

you are going far away with pieces of our lives

it will be short, it will take all your breath

it will not be simple, it will become your will

Adrienne Rich, 1991