The days are getting shorter, and it’s getting darker every day. The leaves that are still on the trees hang there mostly in defiance or because they have rusted as the colour suggests. A few months ago, they were young and flapping freely in the wind as if life would last forever. Now the wind is cold, and all the smells of summer are gone. If the wind carries anything now, it is raindrops and a warning of autumn before winter comes. Raindrops that for a brief moment in their short life shines like pieces of gold in the light from the lampposts. Drops of gold that turn into puddles the moment they hit the ground.
Autumn is going to catch up with us all.
Just one more time I wish I could experience the sunset sitting on the seawall El Malecón in Havana, smoking my Cohiba while the waves hit the shore. Waves that time and again take charge and thunder against Malacòn as if their sole mission is to move Cuba south. Just one more time I want to sail so far out at sea that I can’t see land in any direction. Just one more time I want to sit on a bench, slowly reading a book, enjoying a glass of wine in the shade of my Panama hat while the wind ripples through the olive trees. Just one more time I want to lie in cool sheets on a warm summer evening while a breeze plays with the sheer curtains. Just one more time I’ll cruise down Ocean Avenue in a Mustang Convertible while Yellowcard plays their version of the street. Just one more time I will spend the night on the beach on Sanday in October by the remains of what was once my father’s ship, and which can now only be glimpsed as sculptures out on the reef. Just one more time I’ll let the summer days fade away as the waves crush against the hull of my wooden boat.
Just one more time before autumn catches up with me too, as it does with everything.
Billy Bronco is telling you 