Mid-August, I wake with my bones aching from cold that has seeped in from the open windows. Outside, the sun runs silver over white poultry trucks. Ambling tourists sway with their backpacks on one shoulder.
shoulders bared silver
weak for the height of summer
wintry sunshine
Not one leaf has turned, but already I dread the fall, knowing winter is not far behind. Another flashback. Another year’s end to sum up and find wanting.
RED GLADIOLA 
I liked this very much. The cold, the approaching winter. Another year’s end.
Thank you! It’s hard to think of endings. But at least that means another year will begin.
yikes, the mind quakes in ignorance of how this weather feels like and in rapture at the loveliness of the words describing it.
Thank you! I’m glad I could evoke something that was unfamiliar but touching all the same. =)
Oh, yes, seasonal change…
*sighs* Sometimes, we’re just not ready.
I’m not ready for fall/winter yet either. Nice work.
Thanks! *hugs*
I agree and although I did feel that the trees looked slightly tinged the other day, I still want to see and enjoy the connections, feel them and experience the depths that only repetition can bring. It is an appreciated luxury now. . As usual made me think
It’s true. Knowing the seasons change is what makes each one so special, while it’s also comforting to know they’ll cycle back and return. It’s just hard letting go of one for another sometimes.
Fantastic. Such a poignant sense of the inevitable in this poem.
Thanks! Much appreciated. ❤
I love this somehow and I dont even know the reason!
🙂
Don’t worry. I’m just glad you enjoyed it. =)