Autumn

I think this is my favourite season. I am occasionally overcome by melancholy, but in Autumn this seems natural and right. In Summer sadness can seem so wholly out of place in this city where a celebratory, even giddy mood can predominate; even while the trees die. In Winter a gentle sadness can turn into a hopeless despair. Spring is such a contrary season; balmy breezes precede icy rain, and we must look to the skies and the dams so that there is no time for reflection.
In Autumn I walk the streets and alleys of my town, and dream.