Is there anything better than autumn in Western PA? 
Tho I don't speak cricket, 
I'm pretty sure their answer is somewhere between
Amen and fuck no.

I step outside, the evening's bag of garbage in my hand ... 
am about to drop it in
and walk the cans to the curb 
for Friday morning's pickup
when it alarm clocks me -- 
the grass, the leaves, the crickets
all in chorus and floating
on the evening's cool crisp 
like a magic carpet,
daring me a deep inhale,
a Times Square of smells, of spells,
equal parts riot and symphony, 
fall's fulsome fragrance. 

So ... (second breath) 
... lush.

And not for the first time, it triggers
an autonomic response, 
and I ask out loud, "How lovely is this?"
before I make it to the garbage can.