the air around electric

September trees

seem taller

(healthy in a way)

peculiar to the epoch

the air around electric

their towering presence, epic

leaves falling on their

own time in their own way

finding winding a route

down

leaves vacating leaving

space for the sky

broad bare branches exposed;

i stand under the nearby

grove of oak and elm

look up

through the limb… to the sun

shining in a blinking winkling way

so new to see;

everyone it seems to me/

should stop what they are doing

loiter under a tree/

(I’ve an affinity for autumn)

but fall does not have to be/

seasons each are pleasingly unique

the other three/

offer a satisfying experience

private. oblique.