I was sitting in my office in the strip mall by Back Cove staring out the window at the changing leaves. It was midafternoon early in November and we were on the precipice of an especially ugly election. I had my opinions, and like everyone else, I was pretty sure they were right. But it didn’t make me any less tired. So instead of all of the ugly, I was thinking about the color of those leaves reflecting on the water. It reminded me of a poem I’d read once about autumn and a child’s clumsy words and the inevitably