September 10, 8am
Flat pearl sky hovers over the deck
Low breezes rustle ivy, rattle mini blinds
High winds sway pine tips above East Hill
The pitch of a passing street sweeper & heavy gusts conjoin,
a muted rumble chasing through woods
Chin raised, I detect the aroma of tomatoes
ripening in their pots
While thick air swirls, raising goose bumps
I don my fleece sweater
and taste the approaching storm
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Garden, Fall |
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