So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast: 9.29.09

Oh, it is so rare when things I like converge so nicely .

I wish I could take the feeling this project gives me and wrap it around me like a chunky, fall sweater right now. I need a book and tea and the puss in the chair by my window. I'd like to be anywhere but where I am. Literally, right now.

When I graduated from grad skool, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. Pretty DARN pleased, actually. And it probably shone out through my whole attitude and presence. I'll always remember my dad pulling me aside, out of the sense of celebration and laudation, and offering the best congratulations he could muster. "Don't get too cocky."

But the thud of those words hitting doesn't feel like it used to. Sometimes, I find myself in need of a cautionary sign, and I never have to look far. I should have waved that banner before my last crowing of no problems here--whee--lookee!--no hands!

Because the other night, sitting on the stoop, musing on the little scenes and vignettes that struggled out of the last few hours with the family, feeling the clumsy minuet start up again--that old two steps back shuffle, it all felt like a drowsy rousing of old refrains. Every fall, it seems. Every fall. I have to take the season at its word and do just that for a little while.