Linden leaves, Fall’s gutter gelt, pile around tires and trash bags.
Green eel reeled tight on the hook, reversely baptized, writhes in an ecstasy of tongues, a new convert not ready to die for his faith on the promised land.
Cannon clouds erupt across the milkweed field, low seed-pod smoke trails catch in dry stalks – grass-fallen soldiers sacrificed on summer’s front lines.
Butterfly transcends the highway vortex, wings clap toward the sun, changing lanes to glide south.
Flowsy hedges’ flowers blown and grasses tattered, edges tumbled, summer scattered. Autumn is a hefty girl, hair all come down with dancing.
Trees undress outside-in shedding summer-fat throw-away leaves.
Five turtles on a plank, marbled history disks who’ve seen enough to know when it’s a good afternoon to sit in the sun.
Sparrow mafia slouches in the fence gap eyeing the small kid with crackers.
Wind hiss through leaves – don’t forget it when they’re gone.
In line at the PO: Burgundy and tan large-check houndstooth polyester pants. Too XL collard short sleeve button-up – racing black triangles-on-cream last seen in 1985. Newsboy leather hat. Lace-up fawn oxfords, back left, center seam unstitched, perfect paper airplane folds in leather barely contains Achilles tendon bulging through thin white sock.