Season


As the days slip slowly by
and summer sips the
decay of waning seasons,
the morning's cool breath
is a balm on sun-parched
skin.
See the serene
and somber grey
stretch its gaunt
sails and sweep
across the expanse.
See the days grow
crisp and cold,
a welcome shift
from the sweltering
midsummer steam.
See the quickening steps,
the swift stride of
shivering souls.

(My heart and autumn
coalesce.
I am alive
in this season
of slumber.)

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