Seasons Greetings from Saint Paul

 Fall came unannounced, as it often does, without calling ahead first.  Labor Day was the last hot day here.  Last day of the State Fair too.

 Then Tuesday morning, right on cue, cool weather and school buses came.  Maple trees shivered.  Kids returned to school with varying degrees of enthusiasm.  The State Fair packed up its booths and midway rides.  The tattooed carnies and blue-ribbon livestock have all left town.

 The Republicans have left town too, politicians migrating like swallows to nearby battleground states, traveling lonely rust belt roads mapped by pollsters.  The biased liberal media have flown home to the coast to sip lattes and sneer at small town values.  The Excel Center is a hockey arena again.

 The riot police have left our streets too, or maybe we just don’t recognize them in their regular street blues.  But the haunting aroma of tear gas lingers.

 Summer’s last remnants; we treasure them here.  Like the crickets who still hopefully sing of freedom and love outside my window, and try not to think of November.