September Equinox

Fall has always been a reflective time for me and my thoughts quickly return to a small southern town nestled in the tall pines and old oaks. The tines of steel yard rakes would sing as they moved across the asphalt streets, gathering small piles of leaves along side the curb to be burned. The aroma of the burning leaves would permeate the air along with the distant sound of a marching band practicing for the Friday night game. The old front porch swing would sway with the gentle breeze and the screen door would bounce as children ran in and out of the house.

Those few blocks surrounding the old house perched upon a hill was my world. It was my kingdom and I ruled it from high atop an ancient Mulberry tree. It was my childhood.

(to be cont.)