Late November and the air is violet and chilled-
the savage summer restlessness has finally stilled.
Funny how the world turns most beautiful, just as it begins to die-
As if the colors finally fought their way out of their green sheaths- as if they’ve won…
As if the leaves vowed to turn the sidewalk magic, as they fall down to dry-
As if the sky surrendered to the brutal, sanguine sunsets of the blazing cool sun…
And, I can walk for hours, alone, me and my coffee, hair wild with wind,
through the night streets, the sleepy- warm houses huddled knees to chin…
and golden white lamp posts, twinkling against the sky like stars,
smell of rain, and laundry detergent, and leather boots, and heated cars,
and I love you, Autumn, you with all your young defiance- gypsy herald to the snow,
I just wish you would stay longer, but like love and chocolate, seasons so fast seem to go.