Summer is over. Officially.
Labor Day weekend has passed.
No more summer camp. No beach days.
Zero fireworks displays, community cookouts, canvas paintings under the awning of the pool club.
Fall arrives early. Hurricanes threaten.
Fantasy football on the brain, kicking out random thoughts of pumpkin spice lattes.
Reminders from the condo association to clean out the chimney are stuff into mailboxes.
Student orientation groups wander the streets, each kid weighed down by a neck lanyard holding a student ID and room key. The name of the university they’ll grow to hate when they can’t get work or pay student loans ironed onto their sweatshirts.
Fall back one hour on the clock.
Gain one hour of sleep.
Lose many hours of sunlight.
Write in short sentences.
Each meant to sound more profound.
None are any real revelation.