_as the morning_

as the morning draws to a close
summer plateau drowsy comfort gone
fall is another thing entirely

something must be missing

once the door blew open
came in with the leaves
brown and red and orange and green
and something that is never seen

a time much like this
a day only slightly different, only
in its perception
other leaves will fall

is something missing
other doors will open in the day
and nothing will be seen but brilliant sun
a furrowed brow and a chill breeze
bringing only brittle leaves of many colors
and all the while the morning disappears.

J. Horne