Summer still nips
at the heels;
that playful puppy.

but autumn is in the air,
and the aroma displeases.

not its own season;
merely an overcast passageway
from verdant bounty
to spare gradations of gray.

monochrome monotony
lurks in the shadows
somewhere down the path

beloved days of the better solstice




equinox passes

until it seems everything is done
in the dark

which should be done
in the sun.

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