Murky clouds attack late-summer skies,
chilling me by sight if not by feel.
The wind takes on a sawtooth edge,
and the mottled skins of sycamores gleam bright
against a sky that quickly gobbles up the setting sun.
Soon I'm in the dark alone; the night air gathers
clammy strength, and I, a comfort seeker, step inside
and shut my door against the cold.
If summer lingers in the air by day, by night
the coming Autumn reigns.
Sept. 1, a chilly night