September cannot decide whether it wants to be cool or warm. I’ll take warm – all the days that can be warm should be warm. How am I going to make it through winter? The writing will help. A poem a day perhaps? That’s certainly a challenge, but I’ll look at that when official winter arrives.

I’m reading Wislawa Szymborska poems. They could be real downers if you let them, full of dark thoughts about the void. When the days begin to shorten and the afternoons grow dim, its time to implant the joy of different seasons not the dark side of life.