late september


    there was something in the autumnal air
    to begin with: not a chill, an awakening
    as soon as I stepped out of the house
    I breathed in the crisp chill of possibility
    and, as I turned toward the car, I saw
    the sky – cloudless, clear, and colored in
    open invitation blue; all that was missing
    was a soundtrack, which I added once
    I started the car and drove into my day
    (new indigo girls, if you must know)
    would that the day had stayed as clear,
    that something more materialized than
    the rhythmic restlessness of routine,
    but I saw more stove than sun – still,
    as I drove home in the dark and parked
    in the same driveway where I had seen
    and felt joy sidle up like an old friend
    I could still sense the shadows of hope
    lurking in the last vestiges of the garden
    waiting for daylight; this is not over yet.



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