Indian Summer

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A dying sun
in a blood streaked Autumn sky
sinks slowly beyond
the horizon.
The chill
October air
catches my breath
and sends it
billowing out of my mouth
in a cloud of white
like the smoke
that pours
from from the stacks
of the refinery
on the opposite horizon.
I can't take a step
without hearing it,
the leaves
crunching
beneath my feet.
The trees are bright and
festive shades of
gold
scarlet
and the last few
whispers
of summertime green.
The wind
sweeps my hair into my face
and ruffles my clothes,
raising goosebumps
on my skin.
It snatches fallen leaves
and blows them
in circles,
creating tiny little dust bowls
that dance sround my feet
and skitter across the pavement.
I close my eyes and
try to save this image
in my mind,
because I know
that I will have to wait
another year
until Autumn
comes again.





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