Mr. Autumn Poem by Curtis Johnson

Yesterday the temperature was 111 degrees in my neck of the woods, and today is much like yesterday except for a degree or two on the down.
Don't we just love those weak cooling trends?The forecast promises a week's
supply of 100 plus days in secession. This is the first major heat wave of Summer, and my AC reluctantly went on this morning in the 9 O'clock hour.My AC must have
looked at me questionably and said, "Are you sure about this? "Of course I was indeed
sure about that and counting on it to faithfully execute its God-given duty of keeping us cool.Mr. Summer never ceases to live up to his name, often bringing massive wild fires and lots of pain.
Man-made cooling and few if any power shortages are what I'm expecting until Autumn arrives.
Mr. Autumn and Miss Spring are two of my favorite friends, and every year I look forward to them. He's aware of Mr. Summer's actions and pleading for some relief, but is patiently waiting his own season.Mr. Autumn promises faithful delta breezes cruising through the central valley like a luxury ocean liner
docking port to port. He will bring color filled leaves bathed in beauty, falling from the trees like snow flakes in Mr. Winter 's world. Mr. Autumn speaks to us with the spirit of gratitude in the language of harvest, of reaping, and the scales of balance. He bridges the gap of hot and cold, rendering solace to our souls. Mr. Autumn knows no greed.He speaks the language of a feeder. He's a giver and not a taker.

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