[This entry is cross posted at ordinary-times.com]

We’re suffering Sudden Onset Fall. The leaves all dropped yesterday. Crunchy steps echo in the dark because dusk is a five minute period between school pick-up and the dog expecting dinner. I need a sweater to take my evening walk with my wife and by the time I get to the creek – I assume there’s a creek because there was a few days ago though I can’t see it without a flashlight – I need a coat.

When my wife and I started dating we were free and laughing, uncaring and unworried about what others thought. We’re all that stuff now, but with worse knees. Still, I’m suddenly caring about what others think a great deal when walking next to my bride as she’s decked out in a halogen beaming nylon harness get-up with safety red lights warning traffic off us. It’s a ridiculous get-up that I find prudent only because it’s so bright no one can make out our faces for the glare.

Make it a POETS Day. Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday. Don’t let work pin you in and take what little sunlight God and Congress have allowed. Get out of there and enjoy yourselves.

Wear a sweater.

***

I’ve read praises of Thomas Hardy from Auden, Pound, Ransom, Larkin, and Frost. That’s a short list with recognizable notables to make the point that he’s respected by those whose respect is worthy of attention, but that list is far from exhaustive. Hardy was considered by many to be the greatest literary mind of his time and Max Gate, as his home in Dorchester was known, the end point of pilgrimages by Sassoon and Graves; again, not exhaustive. He was held in awe.