September Half Gone…
And the afternoon light Is slightly less yellow Around the fountain We all seem to Bunch up – A bit closer One of our number Is murmuring softly Bits of arrhythmic prose For which we are Casual receptors To this pleasant add‐on
Then a slight breeze Barely chills And twists hardening Green leaves Yet bonded to their branches It is coming time To drift off Into a progressive dusk And then – To home Welcoming warmth Yet wishing for A short‐lived Umbric night So that on the Rejuvenated morrow We may rejoin The fountain!