34.
Cool chill evening
and sudden hush over
all singing screeching insects.
Somehow that cold secret message
originating perhaps someplace
over the slow drawn slack
jawed plains has icily
tapped summer on the
shoulder and pointed
it the way out.
So collars are high around
necks again and cold
wind cleans the slate
and ushers in the final
month’s gasp of this
long drawn out year.
Poignant bitter morning
frost will brown the tall bright
sunflowers. The responsibly
elite will start thinking
about snow tires, the poor
will slip cautiously slowly
over the ice and all will
find themselves one cozy
corner or other or
suffer the frost bite
deep freeze.
Heat blears through the
vents and gives me a sand
paper tongue and thick
unwholesome throat swallow
by morning.
(October 4th, 2014)
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