Autumn’s Gaze

Children, they laugh and play with dappled hours beneath the trees where shunted sunbeams spill a goldfish light; the summertime has aged, dark devours to kill, is disengaged and unpredictable. Her warmth that pinched oppressively is spent and doesn’t save, evaporates in thunder, loses heat and rinsed, she misbehaves, is thinly sweet.  Septembers’ in the grass and August bows her head, acceptance practiced, memorized.  A hint of mint betrays the final rays, arouse her shimmered skies in Autumn’s gaze.

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