and tomorrow

It's cold outside this morning. Not the bitter wet cold of winter, the soft inviting chill of autumn. I felt it on the drive home from work yesterday, floating my hand outside the window of my truck to capture more. It's conjuring, to me, this air, summoning memories and urges. It makes walls sinful, demands presence the world, drinking it in.

I had a wonderful summer, riding and exploring, and now I find in autumn's approach I long for a copilot. Maybe I have all along, but I needed to be alone of late, understand the virtue of experience for I and I alone.

It's the grin I'm after in this weather, the yes that precedes the statement, "Let's get out of here."

I know better than to waste my time being wistful about this, and I know that looking is the hardest way to find anything. Nevertheless, you know?