Autumn In August
by Doug Tanoury

    The unthinkable came to me
    One night,
    I felt her gone as a dream vanishes
    Upon rising and gathers up its memory
    In its wake.  
    Her touch is summer wind
    In Autumn trees,
    A  passing out of season,
    Like leaves in August
    Turning brown and crimson
    And dropping off
    On to still green lawns.
    A thing out of step,
    An order confused,
    A long pattern of seasons
    Broken and gone.

    "She is not dead. . .
      But only sleeping."
    I say out loud ,
    Certain that
    Autumn cannot arrive in August,
    As I make loud radio static
    And breakers on the beach
    By walking alone through dead leaves
    That bury the grass gone dormant
    In days of dark clouds
    That sit on the horizon
    Like cats on a window sill
    In the zenith of twilight.

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