More of Autumn

The leaves have fallen. Most of them have fallen to the ground. First they were bright yellow and brown. Now all of them are wet from the rain and have acquired a uniform dirty brown color.
I still do not know where the Bauernbergpark Man has gone to. Even the last tiny heap of gravel that he had left on a rock next to the street is gone.
Sometimes, when I walk past one of his favorite park benches I think I can smell the wet clothes of the Man.
However, he is gone.
This autumn I have been close to the Grim Reaper myself, not because I was close to death, but because of someone else I know. Although his vicinity has some ugly aspects, such as the uniform dirty brown of the fallen leaves, it is also something peaceful and quiet, that he promises beyond this ugliness.
So that's what autumn is. And if the Man has left his autumn behind somehow, I know that he is somewhere, where he does not have to cry, where he does not need to shiver from the cold or run around screaming like a maniac.
Still, sometimes because of his absence, I wonder if the sun will rise tomorrow. Anyway, winter is coming, and the sun can hide behind the clouds for a while.