Air that makes the soul feel
Restless - the cool crisp tints
Of gentle summer leaving - the
Space that slips so quickly
Through your hands. Blue skies
Sing out and beckon to incurable
Romantics held in the spun illusion
Of the breeze. Somewhere within
The passage soft and transient, the
Longing comes to seal the scene
Indelibly in memory - to cast
In stone the magic of the hour.
October comes and slips away without
Saying goodbye - so take the cup
And deeply drink the warm sweet
Dew of autumn while you may.