On the ninth of the ninth month

The changing leaves laugh at the fools who think happiness is passing their exams so they can become drudges in the government. Autumn celebrates the rest of us. It chases us outside where hats fall off to blow kites and spirits aloft. The moon is deeply in love with us and dances with us as we stagger, arm in arm, singing loudly about love. If we’ve been drinking for nine days it’s because it’s the right thing to do and because of the wine.