Of Form and Matter. It’s a 6.

Fall’s first light cascades through blinds, onto the wall, the corner of the closet door

I insist this Sunday, and give warning, I cannot be held at bay much longer

Sprint into the light of this day, relish un-relinquished warmth, revel in summer’s end

Hurry, I cannot hold back laying of the blanket under which you will soon walk

Breeze whispers, insects sing their death song, sun carries me along the still sidewalk

Soon, I will cloak you in changing colors… we will wear them together