August 24, 2005
Here in Kentucky,
Autumn falls like an axe,
sundering the Summer's sultry hold;
merciful in its brutality
as I step out the door and realize
I just might need a sweater,
if only for the morning.
Just last week, I drove to work
bare shouldered, and glad of it,
for the air was so thick,
even an axe would've had a
rough go of it.
Yet today I opened the door
to watch for the bus as my son
chattered excitedly about his
first day of preschool (this year);
about his indignation at
having to wait until the end of August
(I never specified what day of the month
school would start)
until he could ride the bus again.
I opened the door and was
once more the fingertips of Autumn
broke the waters of a thick,
and I smiled to see my old friend
returning once again.