Misty early morning early September air
Steeping through the window screen
Cooly painting pale naked bodies calmly wrapping
Softly stroking sighing holdings;
We made a rule to speak less
And made it to the foggy daylight touching
Nostalgic for something that hasn't passed yet.
Here in the coolness smelling changing decaying
Falling leaves from contorted branches
But the grass is still in summer
While the birds have quieted in the in between.
We will walk with friendly familiar footsteps
Crackling towards cool becoming colder
And maybe this time I will feel the tautness
Of face against the biting jarring winter wind
With refreshing revival instead of resistance
To the bare boned skeleton tree reminder
Of everything I am afraid of.