The rains have arrived.
Again, summer ends. Red and
yellow leaves delight.
Seahawks, Dawgs, Cougars,
cozy woolens re-appear.
Sol flees south once more.
Curled by the fire, those
melancholic blues: these mark
true Seattleites.
I'm told Old Sol will be gone in 250 million years; I expect I will be too.
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