When Night Turns to Autumn

Autumn has finally reached her hands into the walnut tree and given it a good shake. The knocking on the old shanty's roof is a rat-ta-tat and then the high hat. When the wind gets up a real wrap around the branches,the beat is Gene Krupa and then dies down, til I'm busy with my books and cleaning out fountain pens when BAM! the wind scares up another drum solo smooth and fast. It's scary for the first month 'til I get used to it. Then the storms do the same thing and I'm jumping out of my skirts.

Tonight when I locked up, there leaning up against the front door, sucking up the heat that was pushing it's way out of the thin crack along the bottom was a baby possum. I love animals, but I can't stand those little guys. Most animals, any animal is cute when it's a baby, except possums. I don't know if it's that linty color, or the seemingly hairless tail, or the snout with that nasty shade of pink flesh at the end...they just seem a bad job of it. I feel bad that I don't like 'em, but there it is. Mister Ugly. The cat's been wanting to go out , but with the possum there, I don't dare, so I'm picking my Capt'in up and walking to the back, which is how I end up in the writing shanty and I need more warm clothes. So, I dump the cat and come back inside. Hopefully the little gray ghost will go somewhere else.
This is early for me and i want to keep it that way. I need my rest after not sleeping the last two nights. Good night cat, goodnight gray ghost.