sweater weather

Somewhere that's not here the leaves are changing colours. And though there's beauty in my sky, I miss the reds and oranges from my crayon box. And when a chill wind cuts through the muggy high at mid afternoon, autumn is calling me from a place that isn't this one. I want to cocoon myself in cable-knit and feel the satisfying crunch underfoot. I want to rake up the fallen flames and hurl myself into their inferno. I want to to look out my window at a crisp blue sky and aniticipate the shiver of the fist step outdoors. I want to experience this mythical fall and savor my hot chocolate as it warms me from my hands and my throat. I want the friction of your hands on mine and a cold-lipped kiss that warms with lingering affection. It is such a stark visual in my head: us in sweaters and scarves and jeans and the trees on fire behind us. We're iceskating figure eights forever.