October

When the shadows
grow
deep and
long,

I scramble for the light.

For the pocket of sunshine
hitting the deck
at 1 o’clock,

the sun-soaked front step, or

curled up cat-like on the
window seat.

For a brief moment,
the blazing maple
casts its own
glow.

Hungrily, I soak it in.

The cicadas sleep
or whatever it is they do
when the leaves yellow.

The crickets are quiet,
the songbirds subdued.

Silence deepens.

The shadows lengthen.

I scramble for the light.

 

 

© 2015 J.L Sanborn.