Fall, in Minnesota

Fall, in Minnesota

It deceives us,

this warm, buttery air,

this displaced blaze of summer.

How is it, I wonder,

that the sumac knows to riot in red,

that the grasses put on their coppery sheaths

and the trees sigh into gold?

When was the last time

the annuals struggled into October,

dull and leggy, but blooming

nonetheless, triumphant

amid the spilled and curling leaves?

I consider all of this -

the beginnings of autumn,

beauty's finger everywhere.

This is why I live here,

this is why I live.

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