Autumn days.
The light of a faltering summer sun casts around us,
Chicagoans laugh too loud,
refuting what is nipping at our heels.
The late October warmth,
has made the trees hold on past their time,
and they slump,
eager to lay down their burden of gold and red,
eager to sleep.
everything is winding down,
except us and the squirrels.
The only difference between us,
they are prepared.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 