Breaking news:  The planets are in alignment; the Druids have returned to Stonehenge; the Great Pyramids are glowing with electricity; the Library of Atlantis has been found in a huge empty chamber beneath the feet of the Sphinx; and I am on Facebook.  That's right.  Facebook.  My work can be found on Facebook at Dean Robbins' Poetry.  Oh, and by the way, all that other end of the world stuff isn't really happening.  I mean, as far as I know.
     The Autumnal Equinox arrives Sunday at 4:44 pm.  Most of us have already accepted the change of seasons as we've noticed the sun now sets a tad earlier every evening.  And, of course, we've just enjoyed the full Harvest Moon.  Nothing to do now but embrace it and hope the Farmer's Almanac is wrong.
     Today's piece originated when I realized in October 2012 that I had once again fallen into the same routine that develops this time of year.  I'm certain it will sound familiar to many of you.

Routine

 

This is Autumn never discussed:

what little daylight remains between

coming home and sunset fades in

soporific stupor as long hour

legs fold into corner chairs and eyes

slip below television screen

horizons until eight thirty is

midnight - just as dark, just as heavy,

and going to bed is redundant.