This morning it was too cold to go outside until the sun hit the top of Capitol Hill, so I kept cleaning. I swept the wood floors, made the bed, and washed my oatmeal bowl. I washed my face twice and shaved.

When I finally started walking downtown, I noticed that the best blush was already almost gone, red leaves all over the wet sidewalk. It happens so quickly every year that I have to stop and say, “This is when fall begins. With this walk. Past this tree.”

Someone stuffed an old blanket through a wooden porch frame on Bellevue. I would have stopped right there, wrapped myself up and sat down, waited out the morning if I’d known you were going to walk by.

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