Here comes the rain, da-da-da-dah, here comes the rain… This is a retread of last season’s autumnal hymns, and while we can’t see the moon just now – due to either smoke or clouds – it’s nice to know the season is turning, turning, and whirling into the next steps of the dance.
Contrails streak skylines, white on blue,
Crossing guards heed the avenue,
Breath makes its halo misty cloud
Fog folds the land within its shroud.
Schoolyards burst forth with racous noise
Squirrels scold unheeding girls and boys
Bees labor long on winter’s hoard
While stores display their festive gourds
Landscape takes shades of orange and gold
Ocher and azure, tawny, bold
This serves as notice: time runs on
In this seasonal marathon
Bright as a coin, the harvest moon
Draws down the drapes of afternoon,
Last gasp of summer’s bright caprice,
Leaves pass out autumn’s press release.