Wildy the Journeyman (into_the_wild) wrote,
Wildy the Journeyman

:: Summer, to Autumn ::

:: Summer, to Autumn ::


As the weather shifts from the blazing summer heat,

Into the tepid indifference of the approaching autumn,

The city comes to a standstill; inanimate, silent

At least from the twenty first storey of his hotel room.

He notices the windblown plastic bag that billowed

Against the white sky, rippling like a jellyfish,

The same jellyfish he'd read from Michael Cunningham.

He ruminates about the distance of Autumn

From Spring. And he wonders, on what would it take

To turn the leaves on the trees, in the park under his feet

From green to orange

And then, to nothing.





Tags: poetry

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