Looking Down

‘Like a ton of bricks’
Overstates that dull sense, the
Mild dent of disappointment

No sooner, it seems
I mourned the passing
Of July

Than it’s Friday
The twenty-second
Of August

And I’m walking
Alongside sunrises
And sunsets

The days shortening
The temperature dropping
Crisp leaves turning

Tomorrow has come
It crept in, craftily,
Like a morning mist

Falling golden leaves
Apples beaming red
Soil smelling sweet

There’s a lot
To be said for
Looking down