Fall is Here - Ain't No Tellin' What She's Got up Her Long Sleeves.

I am not a fan of Fall. You can keep the strange chill in the air, tree defecation by way of foliage everywhere, and Karen and her pumpkin spice.I do love Fall for its impeccable fashion sense, photographical nights, apple picking, fire pits, nature’s art, and kiddos in their Halloween costumes. 

Oh, and I did like the pumpkin cookies Ms. Newton used to make at my childhood church.

Fall interrupts the freedom of Summer. Pedicured toes sinking in warm sand as the ocean whispers rejuvenation. Maxi dresses and window seat views to anywhere but here. Watermelon cocktails, goosebumps in central air, and passionate sun kisses on melanin hydrated skin. Not to mention the pandemic stole Summer’s whole essence and Fall vaingloriously slid in with the rebound. 

My Daddy died in the Fall of October. He was the true definition of chill. Too chill. Chiller than Fall and not in a strange way. Just relaxed. Centered. I used to watch the reflection of the TV flicker on my Daddy's face. His Blackness was strong, unmovable. I think he knew that but was never one to gloat. He was stubborn and proud. Don’t piss him off though because that chill could transform in to a sweet sounding verbal annihilation in a millisecond. I’m honestly, a carbon copy of the man. Fall stole him too. Gave him back to the Most High. I honestly don’t blame her though he was the man to be around. I’d steal him back in a heartbeat.

Fall is death. 

The slow burn of change. 

Fall is music no beat.

Festivals no heat. 

Trick or treat.

Fall is spooky.

Fall is fury. 

Fall is side eye talks around turkey dinners. 

Fall is mouth shut - internal simmers. 

Winter’s closest friend. 

Summer’s untimely end.

Fall is panic driven election season. 

Fear of a race war.

Keep your ear to the ground.

Keep your prayers in warrior mode.

Fall is here. Ain't no tellin' what she's got up her long sleeves.