a call to slumber

autumn teases
the gray touch of the coming
rot
settles morbidly
over a summer lingering
long past
an appropriate
curtain call
the death knell of
verdant memories
fading into
the harsh brown

a beast beckoned
to slumber

the harvest moon
hidden in gray repose
a consternation of
solar insolance
trapped in
accumulated cumulus
a chill wind
creeping through this
empty parking garage
just north of
dismantling dismay

a final pollen burst
to saturate
inflamed sinuses
a last feral kiss
as the land sheds its finery
in preparation for
a hibernation of hope
as these stick people
parade about
indifferent to
autumn falling
in sullen disarray

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