Autumn

time pauses
in held breath
as September
looks down
to the stains
upon July

the white t-shirt
of June
now bears the scars
of barbeques
and second base
slides

the once proud
army of
morning glories
pink and blue
and many
now
only a few
lazy eyed
stragglers
upon the vine.

the crows and hawks
have grown weary
in battle
and sign
for truce,
but never peace.

the loons have
called and answered
and now book
southern airways.

the lake grows quiet
the woods turn colour
my heart marks time
in quiet reverie
and shirt sleeve

quiver

in rip tide waves

another season
come and gone.
so many and
still,
too few.

a good place to sigh

already
I miss the storms
of spring
yet look
to December’s snow.

but September,
will be enough.
the stars will tell truth
in longer black.

the moon will
feel at home
in harvest way

and the earth
will prepare
for a long winter’s night.

me?

I’ll fold July
in careful tuck
remembering the essence
of barbeque,
the wash
of crystal glimmered
waves
and a wish granted
in a late summer walk.

~rick