October 7, 2016

Fall


Our fountain's full of algae,
needs cleaning, yet again.
Birds don't care,
they're still bathing
when they land,
August heat over,
shadows growing long.
I know the time has come
to rake leaves on the lawn,
make everything secure
before October's gone.
But I'm inside today,
wood stacked up against the wall,
listening to the wind,
sing her mournful song,
sitting by the fire,
waiting still
for you to call.