the seasons begin to shift

elongated sphere gives way to round ball

outdoor fun moves indoors

milky-white sky

the bare branches

stout orange moon

whispered woodsmoke remnants

lodge in laughing eyes

friends I’ve yet to meet

poetry compadres

whose work I so admire

cabernet’s deep red

a few bites of cheese, a cracker or two

scent of sandalwood

rain-water gurgle down a leaf-clogged drain

gentle patter of window-mist

alone in my reverie

cutting back all that dying green

mulching, pruning, storing away summer things

the grand satisfaction of practicality