THE STORY OF "WISTFUL EMINENCE"
Fall is a flamboyant fairy godmother with virtuous but profound melancholy tearing at her seams. Early mornings and late afternoons now smell of winter’s infallible onset. Sure, nothing good can stay, Frost knew. But can’t you stay just a little longer?
As we stare into the face of the inevitable, it’s autumn’s wistful eminence that nudges us to disregard incessant fatigue. It compels us instead to squeeze nature into all the margins and cracks of our oh-so-suddenly condensed days.
Is it because, as yet another chilling winter approaches, regret is setting in for that day that could have been but instead was foregone for there were the follies of always tomorrow? The answer is woeful indeed.
So maybe, when the golden leaves tremble in a breeze that whispers, determinately so, Time’s Up, they, too, throw caution to the winds and, at long last, live incantatory, with buoyant spirits, for just a few more days.
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