I’m liking the look of things, the halloween colors, bright orange leaves, black branches. even the cold-gleaming wet sidewalks.
it does get tough when the skies hang low and grey– too many clouds to know all the names– strange ones pendulous as solid gigantic fruit suspended in air. or wispy spun drifts of vapor. my scribbled notebook, mainly garbage but with the occasional glint, exclaims over a single such airborne traveler. they’re what’s on my mind, some days.
then partly sunny, color leaps to the eye and helps resuscitate the grey-wearied mind.
a bumpy ride on the chicago streets these days– potholes, of one kind and another. everyone loves having something to complain of, but too much ready plaint a wet blanket in cold weather.