It takes so little time
for wind and rain
to blow and wash away
the memory of that long stretch of heat,
for me to feel the quickened pace of fall —

The strong insistence of its shorter days,
the drop of needles, leaves, and time,
the carpeting of dampened, waiting ground,
the swift intake of cooler breath

There may be sun again
before the winter —
I just can’t feel it now
in this particular cross-pattern
of internal and external weather,
its mix of colors
bright and dark against my eyes.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 31, 2015