Headache blue.

As in, the Autumn sky.

That’s what some call it.

Deep as the ocean.

Bluer than blue.

Mold allergy will give you a headache too.

The Green House has a good remedy.

But a blue sky needs no cure.

Only appreciation.

Maybe play hooky.

Take a longer lunch.

Or a short nap.

Wander around.

Dawdle in the sunshine.

Breathe the cooler air.

Feel the warming sun.

Stick a fork in it—

Summer is done.

No more triple-digit days.


Then melancholy arrives.

Got the blues?

This is the season.

When the leaves leave.

The winding down.

Drawing within.

This is the year of suspense.

And suspension.

Waiting to exhale.

Everything on hold.

A wait-and-see-what-happens state of mind.

As though something somewhere might be dying.

There’s a kind of hush…

All over the nation.

Everybody waiting to hear.

Will it be good news or bad?

Or in-between?

Regardless, life goes on.

In spite of fears and failures.

As they say—

Time waits for no man.

Or woman.

Nothing stops time.

So live.

And live it up.

Beats jumping out of windows.

That’s no fun.

Plus it makes such a mess.

The blue sky.

The green grass.

(Thank you, rain.)

The friend.

The neighbor.

Family member.

Beloved dog.

Favorite horse.

Special cat.

Friendly stranger.

Happy moments.

Simple pleasures.

Brought to you in living Technicolor—

It’s about time.

That’s Mason.

Renee Walker is a poet, writer, and real estate broker on the Square with her canine assistant, Buster. 

Read more poetry!


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