Shift

I am not dying, yet, but Autumn is here. I see the trees, ready to shed­­ Their red gold load. I feel the clear, cold air Catching my warm lungs unaware.

The harsh, parched summer

Are hazed memories; their blooms

And scents long gone.

Much more behind me now

Than before. The days grow

Shorter, aye, but yet,

I’m glad to live here, now.

Winter holds its own delights; Its still advent excites me.

I smile. ­­­I turn my face

To winter’s deep embrace

©Teresa Durran 191031