Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Last Good Day of the Year

After the sunny weekend I acutely felt the season turn this morning.

Walking down the road to New Cross station Summer ran up to me wearing nothing but a yellow mohair jumper and a pair of hiking books and leapt at me, groin first, for an embrace. As ever, I was pleased to see her.

But Summer is looking pale and has deep lines under her eyes, she has the look of someone who needs a really, really good sleep.
And I sensed, from behind, Autumn creeping toward me, and all of us, with cold hands and sharp teeth, preparing to bite us all, very hard, on the arse.