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.