The trees have lost their leaves, of course. The fields are shorn.
The sun's not overhead. It sends its greetings tentatively from
Its winter home off to the south, and yet, the day is warm,
Like spring, and I've resolved to stay out in it. Autumn's chill's
Still in the house, as are the dreary aspects of existence which
Afflict me when I face the world indirectly. I am breaking free
Of them. This pleasant respite cannot last, I know, so I am
Greedily immersing myself in it. I suggest you do so, too.