An Air of Autumn
Judyann Minor
Dead leaves rustle in quiet rhythm, as
a broken swing creaks out a rusty melody. Leaves flutter to earth, wind scattered among the dry weeds.
Birds wing soundlessly through the
chill night air.
Patches of pale moonlight in pools of light softly touch the empty tables.
Walking is peaceful yet slow across the deeply shadowed park.
The crisp dew breaks, crunching
under foot,
As autumn breathes hoarfrost
on face and chilled hands.
Encircling trees reach upward
to almost touch . . .
The un-numbered patterns of faint-hearted
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