WRITING FOR AN AUDIENCE

I saw one crimson maple leaf, very small, brilliant, on my driveway next to my mailbox. Last week! No! I cried. I don’t want to see you! I veiled my eyes against that gorgeous thing. It’s hard to accept that summer is waning. Everyone here feels it. People talk about it in dropped voices, low tones. It’s the bad news that supersedes the roiling of the world and its agonies...