It is the end of October. In one short month, autumn has peaked and closed. The mornings are dark and cold. The evenings are short and shorter ushering in the long winter nights to come. I have located my snowboots and showshoes, my hats and mittens, my scarves and heavy pants. I have inspected my winter jacket. I have placed the snow shovel in the trunk of my car. I have scraped frost off the car windows twice. Each time the frost was hard and required much effort to remove.
Whitman wrote in Leaves of Grass —
All is a procession,
The universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.
At the end of October, autumn has peaked and closed. I have resolved myself to winter. I can do nothing less. The seasons dictate this; the shortening days say it is so.
Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass, the Original 1855 Edition, 95. New York: Dover Publications, 2007.