The Lamentations of Finnegan Daley
My dearest Creepers, Autumn has always been my favorite season. There are those who wax rhapsodic about the glories of long Summer days, and thousands of young poets in the Spring of their lives who dash out line after line inspired by the season of growth and renewal. There are a hardy few who, mostly of the Teutonic or Nordic persuasion, who adore the severe and majestic beauty of Winter, with all its attendant merriness and the bustle of close quarters with their fellow man. But for me, there is nothing like the warm days and crisp nights of Fall, with leaves turning as the harvest is brought in. Days are glorious, the nights magical. The bite of winter is far away, and it’s easy to fool yourself into thinking it won’t be that bad, this year. And so I play the grasshopper, while the rest of the world plays…
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