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autumn

Misty, Windy, Gloomy

Misty, windy, gloomy autumn
has arrived. The outdoor palette
has witched over from green to reds,
browns, and ephemeral oranges.

When the sky darkens and the sun
goes down, I wonder if this is
the last time I’ll see daylight, if
the world will founder in the night
and take us all down with it, like
a doomed Titanic, like Pompeii
daring its friend Vesuvius.

But they are only rogue children
at the door, disguised and eager,
satisfied for the instant by
another candy bar, a spare,
clinking coin in the dragon hoard.

My House is Quiet

Autumn in New England

Autumn in New England

My house is so quiet, my ears feel empty. The click of my keyboard is the loudest sound, and when I stop to idly scratch my face, the brushing sound of my sleeve is followed by the fainter brushing of my fingertip against my cheek. It’s a deep and steady quiet, made for concentrating.

I’m happy to be writing. Have I said that lately? Some days, I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have this work.

WIP ~ 8th Draft
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