Fall Fever

Oh, I've got it bad.

I sit at my computer, and I work, and all I hear is the tinkling of the capiz wind chime, and all I feel is the steady breeze through the study window and the hair on my arms standing on end, and all I want to see is color writ LARGE: alizarin crimson and burnt umber and lime green speckled with brown age spots and honey gold and . . . blue blue sky the color of Paul Newman's eyes, cloudless and so sharp it almost cuts my eyes,

and

I get up

again

from the desk to walk

or drive from spot to spot

 to feed my fever with leaf.