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.


Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at

14 thoughts on “Silver”

  1. 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

    1. 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.

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