in the darkness before the dawn of a fall morning
I walk beneath the pumpkin colored streetlights
towards the light of a harvest moon

here in the shadowed coolness of distant yet oncoming winter
barreling towards me
like the train I hear
calling in the distance
I am not always present
to the current season

the crackling of dead leaves beneath my feet and the song of crickets still seeking late love lure me back into this time of coming hibernation

I enter the house to the subtle sound of acorns falling.



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