Two crows fighting on the wing in a rainstorm. Their backs are gray with rain. A moment after they pass, a single yellow leaf falls.
Rain falls. Two crows fight
on the wing, backs gray with wet.
A single leaf falls
Indian summer is:
When it is colder in than out though you don’t know it, and you spend the day inside like a grub, chilly and besweatered, and come out blinking into the afternoon daylight to realize it’s t-shirt weather, a good day for a walk. You visit a friend who ditches the plans for a walk to make a bean-and-acorn squash lasagna with pine nuts. You eat together. Later, brownies and tea are involved.
Perhaps, you think, still uncertain, life is not so bad after all.