Smell of salt soft wind from east

seagull cry their baby’s long flown:

sun lingers paler now


Virgo turns the cusp to Libra

a chill in the shadows

day settles into mellow


leaves fallen end of year.


I’ve lost this year, the hours, the weeks

torn paper shredded in the flame of life

& love has nudged my shoulder


barely once or twice.


There’s no one I’ve been missing

nothing that  I yearn; I’m settling

for gold band of Autumn


awaiting Winter storm.

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