Un petit post

I needed a blog post because, well, there has ceased to be a point. It's what I do. So I went out for a walk to find one.

I found a sheet of low, gray clouds miraculously mirrored in the wet cement. I found the old leaves of summer starting to curl and twist. I found two sluggish squirrels content to just sort of get out of my way. And I found the always surprising profusion of blooming flowers, all full of the extra energy of those who left it to the last minute and are now desperately hurrying to cram it all in.

I walked over to the river where the paths were quiet even though it was a perfect day for exercise. Everyone's ambition is spent on the summer and no one wants to take up jogging or biking now, what with the clock ticking.

Yeah, that's what I found out in my neighborhood in early October. I found the clock ticking.

I found a dog nice enough not to bark at me. "Hello, dog." I said. Which was a real treat for him. I found a new poem that was put up on someone's poetry tree but already ruined by the night's storms. Coincidentally most good poems take that as their actual theme. 

I hoped to see a cat, but didn't. I saw a butterfly and geese and these ornamental plants that grow vivid red lanterns in operatic opulence even as their leaves fade and their bodies become spindly.

But I did not find a blog post.

Unless you count this.

So what say we do.