Change in season

 

What

have I wished

away

yearning

for a change

in the season

For the sun's heat

to moderate

For rain

to stop

For the leaves

to change

For the leaves

to stay

flaming on the branches

not dry and skeletal

in a hot wind

not sodden

in gray puddles

Days are shorter

Winter

will have its moment

Stop wishing

today's season

away

Mid September

 

I walk away

from the glare of

safety lights

into the blue twilight

of mid September dawn

In the near dark

I play a game

What tree

do I see?

I know

oak, basswood, ash

by their shapes

Beneath familiar

pine trees

a scattering of cones

some palm sized

some no bigger

than a thumbnail

In the tall grass

an orchestra of insects strums

For a moment

the wind breathes

strong enough

to drown out

engines in the distance

The sky is lightening

to paler blue

with one star

winking

among

the clouds