wordspill: I don't know...

I don’t know what autumn is.
People say it’s coolness and crispness,
Falling leaves in a kaleidoscope,
Halloween and Thanksgiving,
Bluer skies and less warmth.
I don’t know what autumn is.
September, October, November?
These are only months to me.
I don’t associate them with seasons.
Time passes, marked by holidays more than seasons.
Leaves fall all year round, yellow, green, red.
Coldness and crispness are the stuff of monsoon days with chill winds,
Times when we curl up in our beds, clutch our thin blankets round ourselves,
Attempting to gain some measure of warmth pathetically.
Blue? The skies are ever blue, flooded with puffs of white.
The sun shines, fierce and hot.
I don’t know what autumn is.
Halloween is a novelty, an excuse for adults and not-quite-adults to party,
A day filled with tales of ghosties and ghoulies for the younger ones.
There is no Thanksgiving here- why should there be?
We never lived in alien terrain far from home, years upon years ago.
I don’t know what autumn is at all.
All year long the sun shines,
And the only sense of a season we obtain
Is from the rain and the heat.
There is no autumn here, nor winter.
Spring is a pathetic thing, half created by our own desires.
We are twisting words to fit ourselves in with what we see as the world we aspire to.
We travel abroad, marvel at the coldness, laugh at the tumbling leaves,
In the snow we play like little children,
The newness is something we enjoy wholeheartedly, so enraptured.
I do not know what autumn is.
I feel no cold except that of rain and wind and air-conditioning.
Frankly, I see no point in seasons.
We look towards the west for our pleasure and to find more novelties,
Old repackaged as new.
I do not know what autumn is.
To describe something that I have never truly seen-
Is that not difficult?
There’s nothing so tiring, one might say, as attempting to do something you cannot imagine.
Something springing from the imagination, yes, anyone can accomplish that.
But to create something that already exists- why, how can anyone not find difficulty in that?
I do not know what autumn is. But its impressions are always with me.