I often wonder which is my favorite
But today I know
It is now
The cooler mornings
The crisp nights
The scent of overripe fruit
the crackle of a fire
the call from a V of geese flying toward a gibbous moon
Yellow school busses
yellow leaves
yellowed stalks of corn quaking in the breeze
Time is a sharpened pencil
Marking each days
A weapon
A gift
Poems
Snapshots
Songs
Memories layered with fallen leaves and duff
The rough stuff of the season
quitly laid down
and forgotten
Naseem 25 September 2024
