Indian Summer

Better late than never, Better Early than Whenever

It was Indian summer
I was fearing the fall
Of everything related
To anything at all

Change was coming
The shifting air
That fought the stillness
In summer’s last glare

I held onto that
The last sip of water
If I drank it was gone
But it was gone no matter

So I drank it in
The poison nectar
One last thrill
Of late September

Ah, so fall is upon us. Not quite.

I was supposed to release this song in late Semptember—of 2018.  How I got this far behind in finishing the production of these 60 one-minute songs is a long story, and it’s not at all interesting.

Suffice to say, I’m releasing them when the time is right, and not a minute before. There may be a pun there, but it’s Friday afternoon, I’ve got students to teach,  and am done with deep thinking for the week.  So enjoy, or not. Either way, I’ve still got 42 of these diminutive songs to produce, and as for when the entire set will be done, I’m not holding my breath. (You don’t seem to be, either. Huh.)

Regarding Indian Summer, it does seem to evoke the coming of fall—a kind in-between state where you’re not sure whether you’re coming or going, where time is suspended, where living and dying are waiting on the sidelines to see who will win in the end. Well, we know who wins in the end. In the end, it just ends. (That’s a line from the 60th song, which will be the end of this set, I just don’t know when.)

And that will have to suffice for my deep thought of the day. It’s Friday afternoon after all.

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