Summer’s solitary tune is finally
Being unstrung by breeze,
Short single nights given reprieve
As it sinks below dirt.

But I’m caught within its doorway.

You’re waiting for me down underground,
I think.
Unforgiving summer may have blinded me.

I confess, it would be a long walk
To reach you and your frigid hands.
If they even meet mine.
And I’m not patient.
This new season, although golden,
Might waste my time.

My idleness is itchy
Thinking I can stay on the equinox’s
Welcome mat.

But someone else,

Not you,

Is pushing me into the crisp air.