A Breath of Fall

A Breath of Fall

               

A trifle longer just each day

it takes the sun to drink away

the morning’s dew from fading green,

the last rain’s puddles left between
the twining roots of the old trees.

But helping winds with their new breeze

try fooling the suspicious eye

and make us think perhaps that—why—

it is still summer. Must be so.

We only started it just--months ago.

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