October in Kokomo by Eva Roa White

It’s that time of year when cloud-free skies kiss great blushing trees and mums and roses fight it out. When busy squirrels dig into the newly laid mulch under the jaded eyes of an old Sylvester cat. Stunned bees taste the red fallen apples whose skins have been pierced by the beaks of a murder of crows, while acrid smoke from the first chimney fire blows about the sweet-putrid smell. The hot sun and cold breeze take turns burning and biting my cheeks. I keep my coat on, though it too feels premature, like the Halloween pumpkins next to the Greg Goodnight for Mayor signs.

Eva Roa White was born in A Coruña, Spain and raised in Lausanne, Switzerland. She has lived in several countries including Saudi Arabia. She is at work on a memoir. Her fiction and non-fiction have been published in Page 47 Online Anthology, Transnational Literature, disClosure, Natural Bridge, Marco Polo, Buhito Press, and The Common.