Happiness is bright trees

It's Fall in lower Michigan, and that means the entire world is red and yellow and green.

Red, around here, means scarlet and rose and peach and maroon and salmon pink and crimson and copper.

Yellow means gold and pale lemon and amber and saffron.

Green means lime and jade and chartreuse and dark, dark evergreen.

I ride the bus, each morning, looking up to see the sunlight touching the tops of the changing trees and lighting them up like colored lanterns.

This is the place and the season where my bones say to me "You were born here. You were born now."