Prelude to Autumn

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Perhaps it will be a fall garden. Things are slow blooming this year, although the season started early. Already yellow leaves are sprinkled here and there on green grass. Strange winds come out of nowhere, a prelude to the season change.

Fire weed will most likely sprout up any day now, in summers’ final blaze of glory. Only August and I have turned the heat on twice. Hope reigns supreme for Indian summer, a reprieve, grace for the undeserving.

One more chance is all I ask. Another sunset, it’s warmth on my shoulders. Let me breathe one
more warm gentle summer breeze, through my bedroom window, with whispers skimming the sheets.

 

Prelude to Autumn was last modified: August 10th, 2016 by Deborah Robinson

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