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.