[Nancy Krygowski's latest packs a lot of wallop in a few lines! Enjoy!]
In Fall, Dear Reader,
The wind, cold as a metal handrail hidden in shade.
The sun wants to lick it, eventually does.
Bricks in brick houses perfectly line up
Against leaves whispering colors they ‘ll soon become.
Green tomatoes abandon stems for dirt’s dark chocolate.
Dying, maybe, isn’t so bad.
Except for us humans. Poor, poor us.